


Buses & Trains

by Lupin111



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-20 23:23:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 77,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6029353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lupin111/pseuds/Lupin111
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is not always what it seems and people are never what they appear to be.</p>
<p>An AU hybrid S1/S3-ish romance. Brian & Justin. Of course.</p>
<p>Beta: Xrifree</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

He watched the gaunt body on the hospital bed. It wouldn't be too long before the heart monitor went flat; the man was too weak to hold on much longer.

The harsh hospital lighting made the short, light brown hair appear almost sandy in colour; at a younger, healthier time, it had been worn long, like a hippie. Unconsciously, he ran his fingers through his own golden blonde hair. He hated having to do this.

The sister was seated next to the bed. Her bright red hair was almost garish in this setting that was too lonely, too quiet and too full of sorrow. She was crying. Not loud sobs, but the tears were as steady as they were silent. She was speaking to her brother, making an effort that all three of them knew was futile. She knew. She  _must_  know that the time had come.

He tried to concentrate on her hair again, blocking out her voice and the display of heartbreaking emotions in front of him. Everyone had to leave someday. It was the natural order of things.

At least that's what he had been told repeatedly, and he chanted it over and over again, willing himself to understand it.

It was too hard to watch. She loved her brother. Unconditionally. He didn't have to hear her to know it. The pain and sorrow on her face; it was obvious. This man was a good man; like all humans, he had made his share of mistakes, but his essence was pure.

This wasn't fair. They should be left to live their lives; it wasn't right to come in between love like this, no matter what your orders were. But no one would ever agree with how he saw things; he had had that argument too often and knew how it always ended.

What he was doing wasn't fair. He knew it. Why did they have to die? There was so much love in this room; why did it have to end like this? Spreading misery in this manner felt so wrong. His shoulders sagged with weariness; he wasn't meant for this task. Deep down, he had always known that. He had been told over and over again not to interfere with the human world; he was only supposed to fulfill his duty. That was a task he always struggled with, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to reconcile performing his duty with his beliefs.

Having to take this human was proving to be particularly difficult. There was so much bravery and courage in the man; he had prepared carefully for his own death, remaining strong and valiant even while facing the inevitable. To take away the life of such a man...the fact that he had prepared for this made it worse. Weren't bravery and courage qualities that were to be rewarded instead of punished? And the sister; all her efforts, all her love...it would all be in vain. Her time too would come sooner than expected; the effect of losing someone you loved so conditionally was something humans consistently underestimated.

The time was drawing closer and he felt the light emanating from him become brighter. The body remained on the bed as the soul began to rise. He felt a tear trickle down his own face as the man stopped, bending down to whisper the final farewell to his sister.

She couldn't hear him; but perhaps she sensed something, because she was screaming for the nurse even before the monitor went flat and pummeling the lifeless body at the same time.

Watching them, preserving the natural order seemed less and less comprehensible to him.

The soul of the man had seen him because he received a tired, brave smile.

"You look like a ray of sunshine...I suppose I should be glad that I'm seeing you and not a horned monster."

His heart grew heavy when he saw the effort the human was making to come to terms with his fate.

Could he...could he learn from this human what courage was? Instead of always doing his duty unhappily, was it possible that he could be brave enough to do what he thought was right?

The red-headed woman's body was racking with sobs in the background. She had finally given in to her grief, even as the doctors fought a losing battle.

There were tears on the human's face as he undoubtedly heard his sister, but it didn't stop him from moving forward.

_I can't let this happen. It isn't right. It isn't fair. Let me learn from this human, and give his courage the respect that it deserves._

He knew that he wasn't supposed to do this; but he was incapable of remaining stoic any longer. He made his decision, breaking all the rules that he had always struggled with.

"Stop. Go back. It's not your time."

Eyes widened with surprise and hope.

"But...I'm dead...right?"

"She needs you. Go back to her. Don't touch me and you will be fine. Hurry; turn around before the light touches you. Go back."

Some things didn't need repeating. The human whispered a thank you, and he watched as the monitor picked up the signal, weakly at first.

He waited and watched, long after the doctor and nurses left, after the woman had dried her tears, after the sun had set. He waited until the man finally woke up and asked his sister "Did I miss the Golden Globes?"

Whatever punishment he would be given would be worth it.

Smiling, he turned around and walked back alone.

 

* * *

 

_**Same hospital, several years later** _

  
The dull beep of the machine didn't even register. He watched the human, mesmerized. The time was approaching, and he knew that the human he should be concentrating on was Ted Schmidt, the patient. But it was the friend - Brian Kinney - that had him transfixed.

He was back at the same place. It was here that he had spared his first human, and it was something he thought about often. The case in front of him today reminded him in particular about that time. The two patients, admittedly, were as different from each other as could be, but Brian Kinney seemed to have the kind of strength of red-headed woman had had. It was difficult to explain, even to himself.

This human, Brian Kinney, there was so much anger within him, so much indignation. But behind all that rage, there was grief. He could see it in Brian's eyes, hidden behind a thick veil of pretence. Did it help, he wondered. Did the pain truly go away if one pretended long enough?

Ted Schmidt would die, and he would die through the hand of Brian Kinney.

What would it do to Brian, he wondered. A human so unable to confront his own grief that even when he was alone, he continued pretending. Would this human be able to carry on after having to end another's life or would he be haunted by his decision until it was his own time to go? Was it even fair to make a human face such a situation?

"Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. For going home with some tweaked out little twink and thinking you got lucky."

Brian had stood up and his hands were hovering over Ted's face.

He watched Brian, and felt more and more certain that if he were to successfully complete his assignment, the anger and fear that Brian Kinney was now feeling would be nothing compared to the guilt he would carry with him for the rest of his life.

"Did he let you eat his ass? Did he let you suck his cock? Well, I hope it was worth it. And fuck you for choosing me. I ought to let you lie here forever. How'd you like that? Can you hear me?"

He dragged his attention away as he sensed the light become brighter. Ted's spirit moved slowly, shoulders sagged and eyes full of regret.

He looked from the spirit back to Brian, who was still speaking. The tone was cruel and angry but what he heard was the fear and hurt inside those words.

"You know, you're not so bad looking. In fact ... you look better like this."

He turned from Brian towards Ted's spirit, torn between doing his duty and doing what he thought was right. It didn't seem fair at all that the living had to keep suffering for the deeds of the dead. Brian Kinney seemed to have enough pain of his own; was there truly any necessity to add to his burden?

"You should die more often. Or live. So that I don't have to say yes."

There was a lot more time left, but when he heard Brian's last words, he came to his decision. "Go back. I'm not here for you. Don't touch me, don't step into the light and you will be fine. Turn around and go back."

Ted's spirit mumbled confusedly, but followed the instructions with lightening quick speed.

"Yes, I'll do it. I'll give you what you want. What you need. But don't think it's for you. It's not. It's for me."

He wanted to wait, as was his norm, to share in the joy that inevitably a followed a reprieve, in whatever way that he could. He wanted to see Brian Kinney smile, to see the veil lifted from those eyes.

Instead, he watched in growing horror as a male nurse placed a hand on Brian's shoulder, turning the man around.

_No no no no no no no_

In a matter of seconds, the two of them were kissing and groping and stripping, falling over onto the neighbouring bed.

Feelings of anger and dismay flooded inside of him. Had he been wrong? Had Brian Kinney not felt the emotions that he had credited the man with? Had he just abandoned his duty for a human to whom it would not have made a difference?

He turned away, refusing to look at what was happening any further.

Mistake or otherwise, he would have to face the consequences of his action.

 


	2. Chapter 2

"Mikey, what the hell? I have half a dozen missed calls from you. One call is more than enough for me to get the message that you want to talk. The fuck is your problem?" Brian was pissed. Not a single text message; just endless calls. Not to mention the number of messages Michael had left with Cynthia.

"I'm sorry, but I  _have_  to see you. You  _have_  to speak to Ma. You're not going to  _believe_  what she and Uncle Vic have gone and done." Michael's voice was about two octaves higher than normal and it was steadily increasing.

"They've repainted the walls? Sex change? Deb's running for senator?"

"They've adopted a kid."

" _What?_ "

"Some kid has walked into the diner - he's apparently woken up inside the bus and gotten off at the next halt and walked into the diner. No money, no ID, no memory of where he came from, and they've taken him in! Just like that! I can't fucking believe this!"

Brian wasn't sure if the joke was on him or if it was on Michael.

"'Michael, are you drunk?"

"No, fuck, Brian, I'm  _serious!_ "

"Don't you think Deb's a bit too old to be running after toddlers? And I can't quite imagine Vic -"

"No no no, he's not a  _kid_ kid. Emmett saw him at the diner, and he's the one who first told me. He could be between sixteen to twenty five, he said. Can you imagine? Jesus, he could be anything - he could be a serial killer, he could be wanted by the cops, he could be..."

"Never mind  _him_.  _You_ should calm the fuck down. Did you speak to Deb?"

"Yes. Ma wouldn't listen to a word I said. She's just going on and on about how taken Uncle Vic is with Sunshine. Maybe they'll listen to you. I'm coming to the loft straight after work. You can -"

"What the fuck is sunshine?" Brian was utterly confused.

"The kid. He doesn't have a name so Ma is calling him Sunshine. Brian, we have to go over there. You have to knock some sense into them. "

 

* * *

 

Brian walked into the kitchen with Michael, almost expecting to find the decapitated bodies of Debbie and Vic strewn around the living room. That was one reason he insisted that they enter from the back, with Michael in the rear. Just in case, though he would never admit as much to Michael.

Instead of blood and gore however, laughter was what greeted them. The most gorgeous blonde Brian had ever seen was standing in front of the fridge - which was open - eating what looked suspiciously like a lemon bar.

Nobody noticed their entrance and Debbie, Vic and the blonde continued laughing.

Brian couldn't take his eyes off the blonde. Serial killer he did not look. Immensely fuckable he did. Brian felt the stirring of a familiar sensation, and was surprised by the intensity of it. Maybe talking to Deb could wait one...several...hours?

"Ma?"

The laughter finally stopped, though the trio continued to smile. Brian had no doubt as to the origins of the name 'Sunshine'. The blonde couldn't be a day over nineteen, at best.

"Michael, honey, you're here! Brian, have you eaten yet? Can I get you boys some pasta?"

" _Pasta?_  Ma, what the..."

"Shit, first things first. Sunshine, this is my son Michael and that's Brian, his best friend."

To Brian's - and Michael's - immense surprise, the blonde enveloped Michael in a hug, exclaiming "Debbie has told me all about you. I couldn't wait to meet you!"

Michael had turned purple, as he completely ignored the blonde, shaking himself free of the hug.

" _Ma?_ "

"This is Sunshine -"

"Can I speak to you both in the living room?  _Please?_  Now?"

Mildly amused, Brian watched as a grumbling Debbie and a resigned Vic, both rolling their eyes, followed Michael out of the room. He ignored Michael's rather obvious signs for him to join them. Let them have a head start, he thought. Brian wanted a few minutes alone with the blonde. Okay, who was he kidding? It was definitely going to take longer than that. Brian wondered if he could manage to go upstairs without Michael noticing.

It was then that he noticed that 'Sunshine' was making no attempts to greet  _him_ with a hug. Instead, the bluest pair of eyes he had ever come across watched him intently, their expression unreadable. The lack of the physical greeting mildly annoyed him, despite the fact that had the attempt been made, Brian would have undoubtedly pushed the blonde off of him even faster than Michael had.

"So, Sunshine, what's your real name?" he drawled casually, as he walked closer to the blonde, who had made his way back to standing in front of the open fridge.

"Uh...I don't...remember." Blue eyes looked away briefly, before a smile and guarded eyes looked back at Brian. "So I picked the name Justin. And Deb and Vic picked Taylor. So I guess my name's Justin Taylor."

"You picked your own name? And you picked Justin because...?"

"Because it means fair and right, which I liked."

"It does? In what? French? German?"

"Latin."

Brian looked at him in surprise. "Latin?"

"Yeah..." Justin was giving Brian a strange look. A look Brian frequently gave others. The are-you-that-slow look.

"You randomly picked out a Latin word?"

"No, I picked out a Latin word that I liked."

"Exactly how many Latin words do you know?"

In that nanosecond, Brian saw something flash in Justin's eyes; confusion?

Justin was backpedalling. "Uh...I don't know...a few? I mean, doesn't everyone know something in Latin?"

Brian snorted. "No, everyone does  _not_...unless you happened to live in a Franciscan monastery."

"Oh...I...I guess I must have picked it up as a child somewhere then, huh? Lemon bar?"

"Hmmm...and the Taylor? Where did that come from?"

Justin indicated with his eyes, and Brian followed his gaze to a VHS tape lying on the kitchen counter. Liz Taylor. Of course. What did he expect with Deb and Vic?

"How old are you?"

"I'm not sure."

Brian noted with amusement that another two backward steps and Justin would be right inside the fridge. Which was still open. Didn't he feel the cold? Whatever. He had bigger fish to fry. Red flags were going up all over the place, but Brian was willing to let those wait until immediate needs were met.

He placed his hands on both sides of Justin's head, against the fridge, effectively trapping the blonde.

"So,  _Justin,_ what do you like to do?"

"Do?" Gulp. "I don't know." Justin looked away, refusing to meet Brian's eyes. "Debbie taught me how to...uh...make brownies." Gulp. "That was fun. And she has a television...that was fun too..."

He dropped his voice low, and moved in closer, so that there was maybe a seven inch gap between their faces.

"Are you a top or a bottom?"

Justin stared at him, pupils dilated. Brian could hear him breath. The cold air behind Justin wafted past them, but neither noticed.

"Top? Bottom?"

Brian would have bet the entire Armani collection that Justin was a virgin. Fuck. He needed to take Justin upstairs.  _Now_.

"Wanna find out?"

Maybe his ass finally started freezing over because Justin snapped out of it.

"I'm not sleeping with you."

"What?"

Justin bent down and slithered beneath Brian's arm, knocking his head against Brian's stomach in the process.

"That's what you were initiating right? You were trying to initiate...you were trying to have sex with me."

Brian stared at Justin's about-face from a shy, nervous teenager to this...this...

Justin was still talking and Brian focused on what he was saying.

"...very inappropriate. You don't know me at all, and further, we're in Debbie's kitchen. Even assuming that I had been interested, which I'm not, this is neither the time nor the place. Also, it's cheap and degrading and -"

"Are you just babbling or are you assuming that you're making any sense?"

"I'm merely saying that your behavior is inappropriate and -"

"What the fuck are you still doing here Brian? Can you please go knock some sense into those two?" Michael entered the kitchen, hands balled into fists by his side. His glare came to rest on Justin.

 

* * *

 

Nothing (and no one) had ever prepared Justin for that. Humans could feel like  _that?_  Justin remembered the scene from the hospital all too well. That man was dangerous. If he hadn't almost frozen himself standing in front of the fridge, Justin afraid of what might have happened. He blushed at the thought.

But that Brian...he really would jump anyone, it seemed. After all, he hadn't known Justin at all. Justin scrunched up his nose, remembering the hospital attendant. It certainly didn't say much for himself that he was lumped in together with the attendant. It really  _was_ cheap and degrading and what kind of man -

"Well? Have you nothing to say for yourself?"

Justin realized that Michael was glaring at him, clearly expecting some type of a response. Brian had exited the kitchen and he could hear voices in the living room.

He smiled at Michael, even though he was getting a distinctly cold, negative vibe.

"I'm sorry, I missed what you said. Could you -"

"What? Day dreaming about Brian already? You haven't been here for twenty four hours and you're already trying to sleep with him."

"He's the one who -"

"Of  _course_ , and I bet your wide-eyed looks had nothing to do with it." Michael rolled his eyes. "I don't care what you told Ma or Uncle Vic. You can't stay here, so you better find a place soon and move the fuck out. And stay away from Brian."

"But - "

"I don't care. Your Little Boy Blue looks won't work on me. Whatever you're hiding, we're going to find out, so you better leave before that."

"I..." He had no idea what to say. Debbie had made Michael sound saintly, and Justin clearly hadn't made enough allowances for parental bias. Maybe Michael and Brian were seeing each other. That would explain a lot of Michael's displeasure, though it placed Brian in an even worse light.

"I'm sorry Michael, I really didn't do anything. And I had no idea that you and Brian were seeing each other so if I -"

A loud guffaw interrupted Justin.

"We're most certainly not  _seeing_ each other. Whatever gave you such a retarded impression?" Brian waltz into the kitchen, jacket draped over a shoulder. "C'mon Mikey. Nothing more we can do here." He put an arm around Michael, pushing him towards the door. As Michael stepped outside, Brian glanced over his shoulder to where Justin was standing.

"See ya around,  _Sunshine._ "

 

* * *

 

Justin stared at ceiling. The whole sleep thing humans did; it wasn't coming to him too easily, despite the exhaustion he felt physically. He wanted nothing more than to be away from all of this; to be back on familiar ground. Things were certainly a lot more confusing than he had expected, though he was relieved to have found Vic. If Debbie and Vic hadn't taken him in, Justin had no clue as to what he could have done or where he could have gone. Vic recognizing him had also worked wonders for him; the wafer thin story he provided had been enough, and whatever questions Debbie may or may not have had, Vic has taken care of it all. He was pretty certain that he could count on Vic, and he hoped that neither Brian nor Michael would end up changing Debbie's mind.

Brian Kinney. As petulantly as he wished that he could blame Brain for his current fate, he knew that there was no one to blame but himself. I should never have tried to justify what I did, that was my mistake, he thought. Whatever Brian was or was not was irrelevant. Justin was the one who had been duty bound, and he had failed.

He remembered the Council meeting...

 

_He hung his head, as Loki conferred with Hel. They had consulted the Council prior to the hearing, but he had no idea what had been decided._

_He knew they were disappointed in him; he was disappointed in himself, though for very different reasons. He had felt sorry for Brian Kinney, he had been genuinely convinced that the man was breaking apart inside at the thought of his friend dying, of having to be the one to make that choice...and yet...and yet, how could he just turn his back and -_

" _Oli! Oli!"_

_He looked up and smiled at his friend. Daphne nodded at him encouragingly. At least she seemed hopeful that his punishment wouldn't be too harsh. Gwenhwyfar, on the other hand, looked very worried. She was one of the very few who indulged him and his rule-breaking, wayward thinking ways. She was also very much senior to both of them, which was why he had asked her to be the one to say something in his_ _defence_ _. Gwenhwyfar had come to his rescue in the past and he was hoping that her words would have a positive impact on Loki and Hel today._

" _I'm very disappointed in you, Aeolus. You are no longer merely assisting; you have to be able to adhere to the rules without supervision."_

" _I know, Loki. I'm sorry I let you...I'm sorry I let all of you down."_

" _You have always been sorry, Aeolus. Yet you consistently break the rules when you don't agree with something."_

" _It's just...it's just very difficult for me to understand how so much pain and suffering can be the natural order of things. It seems to me that with the power we have, we should be attempting to spread love and happiness amongst humans; not increase their sorrow by taking away their loved ones. They are capable of so much love -"_

_Gwenhwyfar and Daphne were staring at him, silently demanding that he stop talking and he realized belatedly that he was not helping his cause at all. He turned back to Loki._

" _But I realize now that understanding comes with patience and a stricter following of the rules will help me...uh...help me gain the knowledge and clarity that I now lack."_

_Loki smiled at him kindly, but his voice was firm. "Aeolus, you say that when you are asked to explain your actions, but you have made very little progress. I understand that you have great empathy for humans; that is one of the main reasons you were chosen to be someone who would help guide them through the transition. But you believe them to possess a degree of kindness and love and goodness that the vast majority of them do not in fact possess and you credit them with emotions that most of them do not feel."_

" _But Loki, it is there inside of them - most of them, at least. We need to help them find it, not add to sadness. That is, I mean, in principle..."_

" _It is not our place to help humans get in touch with whatever nature you imagine them to have. Our job is to maintain the natural order of things, and death is an integral part of that order. That is the critical lesson you have to learn."_

_He nodded, noting also the pointed looks that Gwenhwyfar and Daphne were throwing his way. I have to think more and speak less, he thought._

" _I understand Loki, and I will contemplate upon everything you have told me. I know now that I was wrong to believe -"_

" _Aeolus, I am not quite sure that you really do understand, and Hel agrees. Your failure to complete your assignments has happened too frequently for us to genuinely believe that you understand your role here. Prior to your failure on Ted Schmidt, we gave you extended time for reflection when you had trouble with Jason Kemp. And there was Victor Grassi before that. Hel and I had hoped that the reflection and contemplation that followed would help you realize the nature of your duties, but it seems that stronger action is required._

_You need to understand the true nature of your duty as well as that of humans. Further, disciplinary measures are in order due to your continuous, willful disobedience. As such, the Council has decreed that you be sent down to live amongst humans for a period of time, as one of their own. We hope that such an experience will enlighten you and address the ideas that you are unable to let go of, so that when you return to us, you will be able to carry forth with your duty successfully."_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As must be apparent, I've played fast and loose with ancient mythology. This story is not supposed to be religious, and as such, any reference to present-day religions is merely coincidental.
> 
> All other references has a certain context in terms of the story as well as an other-worldly context :)


	3. Chapter 3

**At the diner the next evening**

 

He saw Michael from a block away and decided to wait for the shorter man before walking inside. Brian hoped that Michael's mood would've improved, because he really wasn't in the mood for whining.

Debbie and Vic had been adamant the night before that Justin stay with them. Justin seemed healthy, and Vic had been strangely insistent that there was no need to take him to a doctor till there was a need for it. Amnesia, in Vic's books, didn't seem to qualify. Debbie had raised the more pertinent point that no one really had the money to pay for hospitals and doctors. They didn't know how old he was and what would they say once they took him to the police station?  _Oh officer, could you please help Little Boy Lost find his way home?_  Debbie had been sure that after a few weeks of sleeping in a bed and eating healthily, Justin's memory would return.

Brian wasn't sure that Justin had lost his memory to begin with. The kid - boy - teenager - man - what _ever_ \- was too confident. No nerves, no fear, no confusion...no signs whatsoever of someone who had been spun around and let go suddenly. The only time Justin had showed any hint of nerves was when Brian had come on to him.

He grimaced.  _I'm not sleeping with you._  Who the hell  _didn't_  want to sleep with him? Goddamn blonde retard. Well, that would be the last time he would get the chance to fuck Brian Kinney.

"Hey Brian."

Michael got a distracted nod from Brian and the two men walked into the diner.

"Over here!" Emmett waved to them from a booth.

"Where's Theodore?"

Emmett's answer was drowned by Michael's growl.

"What's  _he_ doing here?"

Brian followed Michael's glare to a perfectly shaped ass, covered, unfortunately, by olive green cargo pants. Unwillingly moving his eyes beyond the ass and beyond the tight t-shirt, Brian came upon unmistakably blonde hair. Shiny, almost golden blonde hair.  _That must be some shampoo Deb has in stock._

"Didn't Debbie tell you? Her ward is the new busboy here. At least he'll be earning his keep, no?"

As always, Emmett was a fountain of information.

"And where did the new threads come from?" Brian finally managed to tear his eyes completely away from the ass. I. Am. NOT. Interested.

There wasn't a hint of a smile on Emmett's face as he answered.

"Teddy, of all people, decided to play Good Samaritan and take little Sunshine shopping for 'suitable' clothes. You should have seen his face this morning when he saw Justin. His eyes were bigger than saucers. Bigger than Debbie's earrings. They were like those big tires on bulldozers. He spoke to Deb, spoke to Justin, and lunch time saw our own Teddy do his own imitation of Sally Ann. I'm guessing Justin picked his own clothes though, given the choice of style."

"You're kidding, right?" Michael's eyes were soon going to reach the epic proportions that Emmett had just described.

"Honey, I wish I was."

"What is  _with_ that kid and everyone fawning all over him? I mean, Ted?  _Ted?_ Ted, of all people?"

Brian looked at Michael. "Maybe he's Theodore's answer to Twink Withdrawal Symptoms."

"What?"

"That's sorta what I was thinking." Emmett looked thoughtful. "I mean, he's gorgeous, has a perfect ass, is young  _and_  blonde. Just like Blake. I don't know how to tell poor Teddy though."

"Don't worry, Theodore will snap out of it sooner than later."

Two pairs of eyes looked at Brian questioningly.

"Oh come on, Honeycutt. It's just like you said. He's gorgeous, has a perfect ass, is young and blonde. Why would he give Ted the time of day? Two shifts here and one trip to Babylon is all it's going to take for him to forget the colour of Ted's hair, let alone remember his name."

"Hi. Can I take your order?" Justin stood at their table, little notebook in hand and a bright smile on his face. Unfortunately for him, none of the three men smiled back.

Emmett was thinking whether Justin would hurt Ted as badly as Blake had done.

Brian was busy convincing himself that both Justin's ass and smile could easily be replaced at Babylon.

Michael was debating whether he should warn Justin to stay away from Ted as well.

Until all three men looked at Justin's face. In fact, they stared outright. There was a marked swelling on the left side, and it was a colour quite apart from the rest of his face. Someone had obviously hit him, and hit him hard. Not that it seemed to affect the blonde any, though his smile faltered as three stony faces turned to him.

"Whole wheat, turkey, no mayo."

"Diet Pepsi and fries. And a burger. With sauce on the side."

"A BLT."

"And three glasses of water."

"No ice in mine."

Justin's smile had slipped quite a bit, but he bravely pressed on. "Ok. I think I got it all. They just made soup...does anyone want to -"

"No."

Brian could pinpoint the exact second Justin gave up the battle to keep smiling.

"Yes. I'm sorry. I'll go get your order." Justin spoke in a clipped tone to Michael before heading towards the counter.

Emmett was the first to talk. "Oh my god, did you  _see_ that? His  _face!_ "

"I knew he was trouble from the minute I heard about him," Michael exclaimed.

"So, boys, what do you think happened?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Emmett looked at Brian and started stage whispering conspiratorially. "This whole amnesia story is just a ruse and Justin there is running away from an abusive ex-boyfriend, who's managed to track him down. They exchanged words, the guy hit Justin for leaving, and Justin probably promised to go back home with him as soon as his shift was over. Oh my god!" Emmett looked around the whole diner. "Maybe the ex is here, sitting somewhere. Or maybe he's just waiting and watching, across the road. Did you two see anyone suspicious when you came in?"

Michael rolled his eyes. "Oh Em, come one. If it was an ex, no way he'd be smiling at all. His eyes would be all red and puffy, right?"

"Well, maybe...I suppose..." Emmett was in no hurry to let go of his theory.

Michael leaned forward. "This is what I think happened. Justin's probably a drug mule. Or a small time dealer. Or both. He probably landed up here after a deal went wrong, and now the big guns have caught up with him. They probably roughened him up a bit and told him to come up with the drugs by noon tomorrow or they'd kill him. Wow...this means he'll be gone by this time tomorrow. Brian, what do you think?"

"So much melodrama from the two of you. It's probably something much simpler, like a bad debt. To a loan shark somewhere. Did you see how soft and smooth his hands were? He hasn't worked a day in his life. I'm thinking...maybe a family debt? Rich WASP family suddenly gone under? They borrowed money and couldn't pay it back? Maybe when the going got tough, Sunshine over here split, except that his family's gone missing now and the bad boys are after him. Maybe they want him to find his parents."

"And that's not melodramatic?"

"Not as much as your story, Mikey."

"I think -"

Emmett was interrupted by Debbie. "Boys! Have you ordered yet?"

"Yes, your blonde bundle of sunshine was here not ten minutes ago," Brian replied sardonically.

"Hey, asshole, watch what you say. You're lucky we allow you in here. Lindsay told me what you're doing."

"Deb, I have the pleasure of not understanding you."

"Stockwell, you dick. How can you possibly work on that man's campaign? He hates us. He wants to see the whole of Liberty Avenue in jail, and you're helping him get elected."

"It's business, Deb. I don't give a shit what he stands for. If his campaign is a success, I'll be on my way to New York by December."

"One BLT, a burger with sauce on the side and...here's your whole wheat turkey sandwich with no mayo. I'll go get your drinks." The smile was back, but it didn't quite reach the eyes this time. Justin left as soon as he had placed all the plates on the table.

Debbie was grinning. "Isn't he something? The customers love him! And his ass. I think he's got more compliments than the food here."

"Debbie, no offence, but  _no_  one comes here for the food."

Justin was back.

"One diet Pepsi, three glasses of water, one without ice. Can I get you all anything else?"

"Sunshine, don't you worry about them. I've got it covered. It's you're first day and you must be exhausted. Just clean up those tables and you're done, ok? And get Kiki to give you the icepack. Swelling's gone down a bit, but use it again; we don't want to have to use make-up tomorrow do we?" Debbie laughed at her own joke as the men smiled, somewhat uncomfortably. Justin grinned at Debbie and nodded in acquiescence before he left.

"Ma? What the hell happened to him? Who did that?"

"Kiki."

" _What?"_  Brian, Emmett and Michael all chorused together and Debbie stared at them curiously.

"What did you boys  _think_ happened to him?"

"Uh...we didn't? Think anything, that is. So, tell tell. Did they have this big showdown at the back? Did he steal her tips? Did he take her order by mistake?"

"Fuck no. What do you take Kiki for? The Incredible Hulk?" Debbie shook her head as she squeezed in beside Michael. "There's this mongrel dog that keeps coming round the back looking for food. Ugly fucker, I tell you. So Kiki goes to throw out the trash today, and there the mutt is, sniffing about again. So she reaches out to grab the first thing she finds from the kitchen, which was this big salt shaker that I keep meaning to throw but forgot to. She goes back into the alley and hurls it at the dog, but instead, it hits poor Sunshine smack in the face, because he actually jumps in front of the dog! Silly boy didn't want her to hurt the dog." Debbie paused to shake her head. "Poor Kiki was beside herself; she couldn't believe she hit him. And all Sunshine cared about was that stupid dog."

Brian was the first to break the silence that followed. "Well, nothing melodramatic about that story at all."

"I kinda feel bad for him now."

Emmett earned a glare from Michael for that, but with Debbie there, no one wanted to carry the discussion any further. When the discussion eventually went past the usual gossip and did a u-turn back onto Stockwell, the need to get away from Debbie became too strong. Brian excused himself and went to the bathroom on the pretext of washing his hands, though he was certain that there were more germs in the sink in the bathroom than the dumpster out back.

Brian was so lost thinking about germs and a proactive campaign for a brand of hand wash that Vanguard represented that he first didn't hear anything at all. But when he switched off the faucet, he could make out a male voice, speaking softly. Brian saw the fanlight was open and guessed that the voice was carrying from the alley in the back. He couldn't make out the words, and when he strained to listen, it sounded like the person was speaking in...German? Italian? Brian had no clue and he could barely hear the words, but the temptation to seduce a visiting European was too much to resist. In a matter of seconds, Brian was making his way past the kitchen, through the backdoor in to the alley.

The sight that greeted him was not at all what he expected.

Justin was crouched on the ground, speaking. To a dog. In a language Brian had never  _ever_  heard before.

"Eris, solitarius..."

The fuck language was that? Brian had taken German in high school, and had heard enough Spanish, French and Italian to rule them out, even though he himself didn't speak anything other than English.

"Noli ibi alimenta nunc saltem ut non esuriet."

Surely...no, it couldn't be...it had been years, but Brian still remembered being dragged to church as a kid by his mother, god-fearing Catholic that she was. And what he was hearing now sounded suspiciously like what he had heard then, albeit even in church, it had been a few phrases and a couple of hymns, long drawn out and chanted with the same inflection...not this fluent cadence. But who the fuck  _understood_ Latin, let alone spoke it, in this century?

And Debbie was right. The dog was nothing at all to look at. Maybe after a day spent in a decontamination centre, the colour of his coat could be determined, but right now, it looked like a dirty, muddy grayish brown. The dog had a wolfish face and outsized ears, and a body way too long for its short legs. Definitely mixed, Brian noted. There must be at least eight different breeds in that thing, he thought. With a face like that, it wasn't a wonder that it had been left to wander the streets.

Completely oblivious to the myriad of ailments that he could catch from the dog (aside from being bitten), Justin was now petting the dog. Brian noticed a plastic plate on the ground with remnants of food given, taken or pilfered from the diner. The dog was clearly done eating, because nothing was left on the plate and it sat obediently, listening to whatever gibberish Justin was saying. A Styrofoam takeaway container full of water was placed about a foot away from the pair.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?"

 

* * *

 

Justin didn't move an inch, but fixed wary blue eyes onto Brian. He wondered if the other man had heard him speaking. Probably not.

"She was hungry...I just gave her some leftovers. Jimmy - that's the cook - was going to throw it anyway."

"I was referring to what you were saying. For the record though,  _she_ is a stray dog that you've practically got on your lap. She's  _filthy._  She's probably got mange and fleas and god knows what else."

"Even stray dogs get hungry. Besides, she's got fleas, but not mange." And with that, Justin moved even closer to the dog. He had spent the whole day looking at men in the diner, but none looked as good as Brian. Which was a pity, because the man was fast becoming insanely annoying.

An eyebrow rose, perhaps in an attempt to become one with Brian's hairline. "Oh? Did she tell you that?"

"Look at her eyes. They're clear and sharp. She doesn't have mange, just fleas. And even if she had mange, so what? How would you like it if people stopped feeding you just because you were sick?"

Justin shook his head. Maybe Loki had been right after all. Justin had spent an eternity being convinced of the inherent goodness in humans and trying to help them, but so far, humans were doing a poor job of living up to his expectations. They left poor dogs to wander the streets hungry and ill, seemed to be interested only in having sex (he had lost count of the number of men who had propositioned him today) and the vast majority of them were mean. Only Debbie, Vic and Ted were genuinely interested in being nice to him, and he knew that from them, two out of three were driven by an unquantifiable amount of gratitude.

"Sick or healthy, no one feeds me. I feed myself."

Justin rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you know what I mean. You need people - at least a few - around you, and you wouldn't like it if everyone avoided you because you were sick."

"I don't give a fuck how others treat me. If the whole world wanted to avoid me because I'm sick, who cares? It's called being independent."

Justin had no doubt that everything he felt was reflected on his face. "You can't mean that. That's not being independent; that's being cold-hearted and unfeeling."

"What?"

"Being independent is being able to pay for your own dinner, or drive yourself to the office or to pay for the bus. Not caring about being shunned by people? That's just cold. Spinoza said that men were scarcely able to lead a solitary life and Aristotle said the same thing. Or almost the same thing."

" _What?"_

"You're just lying," Justin stated.

It was a really long time ago, but Justin remembered the big fuss there had been when it was time for Spinoza. Those were the days his zone was in Europe, and his job then had been only to research and assist, and Justin had soaked in the ideas of humans of the time. Aristotle was, of course, beyond his time, but he was still familiar with what the man had said.

Stupid Brian. Of course he was lying; no human could go through life not caring about the society he lived in. Otherwise they'd go and become hermits. So not only were people mean to strangers, they also lied for no rhyme or reason.  _Just great_.

"Spinoza?"

"He was a Dutch philosopher. And a lens grinder. He died in February. Tuberculosis. In...Sixteen...sixteen...sixteen seventy seven. That's it. Sixteen seventy seven. February 21st, 1677." Justin beamed. He had almost been afraid that he wouldn't remember everything he knew, but obviously, he did. Humans were so lucky; they lived such interesting lives and were surrounded by so many fascinating ideas. His routine had been so monotonous...the only pleasure he had ever got was spying on the world below him.

Justin looked at Brian, who was staring at him. Why was he staring? The dog nuzzled against his palm, and for a moment, Brian was forgotten as he resumed his petting. Poor, lonely thing.

"Are you quoting seventeenth century philosophers and calling me a liar at the same time?"

"No, I never called you a liar. A liar lies all the time. Or most of the time. Or at least frequently. I just said you lied."

Brian pursed his lips and had taken one step forward when the door behind him opened.

"Brian? What the hell are you doing back here?" Michael's eyes narrowed as he took in the scene. "Are you feeding that mutt?"

He stood up. "She was hungry..." Was it really so difficult to understand what he was doing?

"Ugh. Fleas and...and probably lice and...critters and even bed bugs. Ma's gonna blow a fuse if she sees you with that thing. Brian, c'mon. We thought we'll go to Woody's. You," he added, looking back at Justin, "better get going before you get into any trouble."

Justin watched as the two men turned and left, leaving him alone in the alley. Being human wasn't nearly as easy and certainly not as much fun as he thought it would be. He wanted to go back to where he came from, but knew that he couldn't. Not yet, anyway. He felt lonely and missed Daphne. He desperately wanted to speak to Gwenhwyfar and ask her for advice. He wished that there was someone he could just  _talk_  to. Given the amount of people on the planet, it was a surprisingly lonely place. Would every day be like this one?

He felt something soft brush against his legs and smiled as he looked down at the dog. Well, maybe not  _so_  lonely.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Brian looked at his computer screen once more, frustrated.  _Stupid goddamn Europeans_. Writing shit one way and pronouncing them another. He had had enough presence of mind to remember a couple of words that Justin had said in that strange language, and now Brian was trying to search for it online to figure out exactly what language it was. He kept telling himself that Justin speaking in Latin was simply an insane notion, but that still meant that whatever language that came naturally to Justin was certainly not English. Unfortunately, given the wide gap between phonetics and spelling, Brian was wholly unable to figure out the answer to what had seemed like a simple exercise. The blonde wasn't American. He couldn't be. 

What the fuck  _was_ it about Justin? The more Brian tried to distract himself, the more Justin invaded his thoughts. The blonde looked way too fuckable to be anything other than bad news.

Justin was lying about something; Brian could feel it in his gut. The confidence, the knowledge...he couldn't be a day over twenty one. Which twenty one year old quoted fucking Spinoza? Which twenty one year old  _knew_ fucking Spinoza? Clearly well educated, clearly knowledgeable and clearly lying.

_What is it that you're hiding?_

_And why can't I get you out of my head?_

Justin was a challenge, that's all he was. If he could figure out what the blonde was hiding, if he could fuck Justin just once, then Brian was certain that he could get it out of his system.

He leaned back on the chair, and turned his eyes to the door, almost willing Michael to appear. Brian needed a distraction.

_Fuck._

He rubbed his temple and headed towards the kitchen. He couldn't tell Michael his suspicions; Michael would either think Brian was crazy or he'd panic and throw a hissy fit that Emmett would be proud of. And those were the only possible scenarios. Brian's mouth curled upwards in a smirk. Not that his best friend would have time to hear any of Brian's theories anyway. These days, it was all about the new man in Michael's life.

He gulped down half a bottle of Perrier, and wondered briefly if there really  _was_ a new man in Michael's life, or whether the whole thing was a charade, meant to catch Brian's attention.

_Mikey Mikey Mikey. Why can't you be happy with what we share, without needing to make it something it isn't? Something it'll never be?_

Which was not to say that Brian approved at all of Michael's little adventure into the hetero-flirting-dating-shoot-yourself-in-the-head-hood. Trying to ‘fall in love' and find a ‘partner' for all eternity.

It was Brian and Mikey. They were supposed to be best friends, for fuck's sake. Us against the world.

 _But Mikey doesn't want to be against the world, does he,_ a tiny voice inside his head asked.  _Mikey wants to be part of the happy hetereo couplehood, complete with a white picket fence._

Brian shook his head. It would  _always_  beBrian and Mikey. Love was bullshit. Partners would come and go, but best friends would be around till someone died of alcohol poisoning.

Whoever Michael found would always be the third wheel.

_New York was looking better and better with each passing second._

 

* * *

 

**Two weeks later**

 

He loaded the dishes into the dishwasher, keeping a careful ear on the conversation behind him. So many machines. Justin found it incredibly annoying having to learn how to operate all of them. Vic and Ted had been incredibly helpful, but still. The diner had four different machines just to make coffee. The television worked one way, the air conditioning another and there were remote controls for all of them.  More often than not, he could barely remember which way he was supposed to point.

Debbie had guests for dinner. Melanie, Lindsay and their son, Gus. Fathered by Brian. Justin refused to think further on that bizarre twist.

No doubt the two women had heard about him because they treated him with polite mistrust. Not too different from the men, Justin thought - Michael, Brian and Emmett. He met them twice, sometimes thrice a day at the diner. He was further subjected to Michael's company when the man dropped by Debbie's house a few days in the evening. It was obvious that all of them had taken a dislike to him, and Justin had long stopped trying to get on their good side. It seemed utterly pointless. He was hurt though, that they would all write him off as heaven-knew-what without knowing anything at all about him. It had been two weeks, and Justin hadn't yet robbed, lied to or killed Debbie and Vic. He had even come to an arrangement with Debbie about paying something for rent and food. Justin knew Debbie and Vic were struggling financially and he certainly didn't want to add to the mix.  He really wished that the men would ease up on him a little bit. Ted, of course, had made many a friendly overtures, and had even taken him out for dinner several times. Right now, he felt extremely grateful for that.

Justin finished with the dishwasher and he quietly went to play with toddler, who was eyeing him curiously.

"I heard that an undercover cop arrested three men at Adonis last Thursday." Melanie sighed, and reached for an apple.

"How come no one ever mentioned it?"

"You know how it is Deb; what's bad for business gets hushed up as soon as it happens. A friend of mine from City Hall also said that if Stockwell gets elected, they're planning to scrap assisted daycare in predominantly LGBT areas, and they're planning to scrap some of the bus routes between Liberty, Butler, Tremont and the Mexican War Streets that he claims are ‘unprofitable'."

Debbie stared at Melanie, aghast. "Can they do that?"

"I dunno, Deb. Stockwell seems to have a lot of support. All this bullshit -"

"Mel, language," Lindsay chastised quietly, indicating Gus.

Melanie sighed and chose to gesticulate instead. "All this," she waved her hands about ,"about cleaning up the streets and making Pittsburgh ‘safe' again has found a lot of support. And everyone loves to hear about how the city is going to save money. "

"But that's horse shit. The man's a bigot and we all know it."

Lindsay opened her mouth, looked at Debbie and then chose to sigh in resignation instead, while Melanie replied.

"He's also a cop. Cops have a lot of respect. People trust them; they trust what they say. We haven't had any major incidents of police brutality for quite a while, and if you're not personally facing discrimination from them, most people don't know it exists. Step outside Liberty Avenue and talk to people. They think bigotry and state violence ended with the ‘70s."

Lindsay joined the conversation actively at that point. "You don't even have to step outside of Liberty Avenue.  As long as they get paid at the end of the week and the booze is flowing at Babylon, they couldn't care what the police does or who becomes mayor. They don't care that a prostitute can get away with a warning but a gay hustler will be tried. As long as Studs & Suds is still on, their lives are fine."

"No one is interested in politics anymore. Its become a dirty word. As long as my life is fine, I don't give a shit about how yours might be affected." Vic took a long swig from his beer.

" _Everything_ is political. If one person's life is affected, another person's life will be affected too. It has to be. Everything is interconnected," Justin spoke for the first time, and Melanie looked at him curiously.

"You think so, huh? Try telling the boys on Liberty Avenue that."          

"We should. We all should. Most people aren't bad; they just need to be shaken into thinking, or taking action. I'm sure that if we engage enough people, they will listen to what we're saying."

Melanie smiled at him for the first time that evening. "Life doesn't quite work that way Pollyanna, but it's a nice thought."

Well, if it didn't, it should, Justin thought. "Well, what about Brian?"

"What  _about_  Brian?"

Justin faltered, seeing the rapid change of expression on Melanie's face. "Debbie was saying that he's helping Stockwell on his campaign. I saw some of those ads on the television. They're really good; if I didn't know better, I'd be completely fooled. Maybe someone should speak to him, tell him what Stockwell's planning, get him to remove himself from the account. Or...or..."

Melanie burst out laughing. "You're naïveté is really sweet. All Brian Kinney cares about is getting his dick sucked and making money."

"Mel... " Lindsay's voice suddenly took on a whimpery, cajoling edge.

"What? It's true. That's all he cares about. If he gave a shit about doing the right thing, he wouldn't have taken on Stockwell's account and everyone knows it." She looked at Justin. "So, Brian Kinney is going to be the last person on this planet to do anything about Stockwell."

Justin stayed silent for the rest of the evening, listening to the conversation around him. After Gus fell asleep, he doodled on one a sketch pad, lost in thought. Ted had bought some for him after watching him drawing on random bits of paper. Eventually, Justin excused himself and went to put his jacket on.

"Going out?"

He smiled at Vic. "Yeah, felt like taking a walk."

"Like you have every evening since you've been here. You should go out, meet people."

Justin smiled, but didn't say anything. Vic continued to speak.

"Here, I got you something."

Justin looked at the two small plastic cards Vic handed to him, and noticed that one was an ID for himself, stating that he was twenty one years old. The other one was a membership card to Babylon under Vic's name.

"Vic, you didn't have to..."

"I've paid my dues. You go and have some fun."

 

* * *

 

"Hey, Soli!"

Justin smiled as the ragamuffin dog ran to him, tail wagging so hard that he was afraid it would tear. After the first day, the dog had kept returning to the alley behind the dinner, and Justin had fallen into the habit of feeding her regular meals. The dog had become attached to Justin in next to no time, and for his part, Justin adored her. He had named her Soli, short for Solivaga, because like him, the dog was a lonely one.

Debbie flatly refused to have the Soli anywhere near her house, but with Vic's help, he had managed to smuggle Soli in during the day last week, and he gave her thorough cleaning in the backyard and doused her with an anti-flea powder that Jimmy the cook had recommended. Soli was looking considerably healthier, and it was clear to anyone who looked at her now that she was a light brown in colour.

He wasn't sure where Soli spent her nights, but on the evenings that he didn't have a late shift, he would walk towards the diner and Soli would join him. He would feed her, and they would wander about together, Justin telling her whatever he was thinking and Soli patiently listening.  Well, as much as any dog listened.

On several such walks with Soli, Justin had come close to the famed Babylon. He had watched from a distance, fascinated, looking at the men who went in and out from the club, being too scared to walk in himself. He had always been too distracted by the activity at Babylon to notice being watched by a tall brunette on more than one such occasion. 

Today, Justin's aimless wandering came to halt when he heard a familiar voice calling his name. His  _other_ name.

"Oli?"

" _Daphne?_ Is that really you? Where are you?"

"Shhh...turn right onto the small lane..."

Justin did as instructed, and Soli followed. It was a small lane, behind several bars and a couple of shops, and in Daphne was waiting for him, glowing in the darkness. Soli immediately hid behind Justin, whimpering.

"It's ok Soli, she's a friend, just like you. Daph, I miss you so much! I didn't know that I could talk to you as a human..."

"I miss you too. Things are so boring without having you stirring up trouble at every turn." Daphne grinned at him. "You're still one of us, so if we allow ourselves to be seen, you can talk to us. So, tell me! What's it like, being a human? Is it fun? Have you done anything awesome?"

"Not really...I work, and I hang out with Soli and Vic and Deb and Ted...that's about it."

"What? Why? I thought Liberty Avenue was this fabulous place - you were always talking about it."

"Yeah well, living in it doesn't seem to be quite the same thing as salivating about it from a distance. Debbie and Vic's friends all hate me. I mean they actually dislike me. All of them. And every other person at the diner just wants to have sex with me. They'd take me inside the broom closet if I let them. It's no fun at all."

"Aw, Oli, that's terrible...you should just ignore them and go find yourself some nice humans."

"I think all the nice ones are dead or old. No thanks to us."

"There must be  _someone_ out there. Oli, you're not going to be human forever, this is your chance to make the most of it. Who cares if it's in the broom closet? You should let one of those men take you! Oh my goodness, you'll get to have sex! You'll be the only one of us who'd ever have done that!" Daphne was practically swooning with excitement.

"Daph, forget having sex, I'll be happy to have been kissed by the time Loki decides that punishment is over. And eeeew, those men who paw me are creepy! And disgusting! I'd rather come back with no experience than go off with them."

Daphne sighed. "Well, I can't stay for long, but next time I speak to you, you better have a more interesting update. At least kiss someone so that you can tell me what it's like. Anyway, I figured that with a crummy job at the diner, you may not have enough money to go out and have fun. So I got you something. But please please  _please_ don't tell Loki that I did this for you or I'll end up on that side with you."

Justin took what Daphne handed over to him, and realized that it was a wallet full of money. "Daph, how did you...?"

"I had two weeks of your time, so I just kept taking a few bills from each soul whose family wouldn't need it. Only the rich ones, so I wasn't doing any harm."

"Daphne, you're incredible! Thank you!"

"I know. Now, I saw this bar called Woody's, and lots of men were going in there."

"Yeah...I've heard of Woody's. Debbie's son and his friends hang out there often."

"Well, you have money now, so go there tonight. See if you can get someone to kiss you. Promise me that you'll at least try, ok? We don't want this punishment to be a total waste, right? I'll try and get some more money to you later."

"Thanks so much Daph! How can I speak to you, if I ever need -"

Daphne winked.  "Just call for me and I'll come to you as soon as I can. Now, promise me you'll try?"

"I promise."

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Woody's**

 

Walking into a bar for the first time, Justin was taken aback. The place buzzed with a unique energy, and he pegged it for a strange kind of mating game. Everybody watching everybody else, but pretending to be completely engrossed in themselves. Justin felt nervous. The place, seemingly tiny and cramped from the outside, was actually huge. Four different sections, and he had barely made it inside. Which way was he supposed to go? There was the option of sitting at the bar (the first bar, not the two _other_ bars he could see inside), but it was full. He couldn't see any other person who was alone, and he was starting rethink his promise to Daphne when he heard a familiar voice.

"Oh, shit. Just who we need. Little Mary Sunshine."

Justin was certain that he wasn't meant to hear Michael.

"Hey, Justin, over here! Come, join us."

Justin smiled at Ted, and made his way over to the four men. Ted was smiling broadly, Emmett looked slightly uncomfortable, Brian looked affectedly disinterested and Michael just scowled. Same as the diner, only at a bar. At least it was familiar territory, he thought.

"Next round's on me." Ted walked away to the bar.

Justin smiled, wondering what a good ice breaker would be.

"He's an eager bunny, isn't he?" Brian looked at Ted's retreating back, and then at Justin. "What _is_ it that you put in his coffee, Sunshine?"

"One cream, two sugars. And just a dash of friendliness. You know, for taste." He gave Brian the sweetest smile he could muster.

"So, how about those onion rings? I swear, no one makes it like they do at Woody's." Emmett was trying his best to at least maintain the appearance of civility, so Justin thought he should make some contribution.

"They are delicious."

Ted returned with a pitcher of beer. "How about a game of pool?"

"I got a better idea. Let's move on."

"Brian, Teddy just got us all drinks! What's wrong with here?"

"I've had everyone here."

"Yeah, my problem precisely." Ted rolled his eyes.

"You haven't had me."

 _Was Michael flirting with Brian?_ Oh barf, Justin thought.

Brian was smiling indulgently. "Oh, yeah?"

The whole table, Justin included, started in surprise.

"What? Y-you never told us." Ted was the only one able to formulate a sentence.

Justin looked from Brian to Michael. What exactly was going on between them? Best friends? Yeah, sure, but there was something else.

"There's nothing to tell."

"Brian, you wanna share?"

Everyone followed Emmett's question by looking pointedly at Brian.

Brian threw his arm around Michael's shoulders, and grinned.

"We were up in his room. We were fourteen...maybe fifteen tops. We were supposed to be studying, whatever. Only, we're not. We're looking at this trashy photo mag his mom swiped from the beauty parlor. Anyway, there's this shot of Patrick Swayze from _Dirty Dancing_ ... without his shirt on."

Ted and Emmett moaned. Justin nodded, pretending to follow the story. What on earth was _Dirty Dancing_?

"So, I've got this hard-on just from looking at it and I glance over at Mikey, and guess what?" Brian grinned at Michael, who scowled in reply. "He's got one, too."

"Okay, you can stop now."

"Twin stiffies."

Everyone giggled. Everyone that is, except Michael.

"I reach over. Start rubbing it. He's practically swooning." Brian's voice dropped. "I pop it out, start stroking it. Nice and slow. We're both this close. Then ... his mom walks in without knocking."

Laughter erupted, and Justin felt included enough in the conversation to venture a question.

"Did Deb see you?"

"I don't see how she could have missed it." Brian didn't even look at him when he replied, and Justin felt a flash of anger. Jeez, was it _so_ difficult for them to be nice to him?

Michael was speaking. "Only we didn't come, so it doesn't count."

"What's _Dirty Dancing?"_

Everyone turned to stare at him.

"You don't know _Dirty Dancing?_ It's a movie, sweetie. Came out in the '80s?"

"He probably can't _remember._ Amnesia and all that."

Justin didn't miss the sarcasm in Brian's voice.

"Even if I had my memory, I doubt I'd remember anything that old."

"What?"

"I said that if it's from the '80s, it's a really old movie. I doubt I'd remember it either ways."

"It's not that old." Snap came the irritated reply.

 _Score!_ Justin felt an incredible amount of joy at successfully having needled Brian.

"How old are you?" _Let's see how weak that Achilles heel is._

Ted and Emmett looked on in amusement.

"How old do you think I am?"

Justin knew _exactly_ how old Brian was; he had found that out weeks ago from Vic. He waited. Almost five seconds passed.

"Thirty-three?"

Ted snorted. Emmett laughed. Michael's eyes widened in shock.

"Fuck. You."

"He's twenty-nine," Ted supplied.

"Thank you, Benedict Arnold."

"Benedict Arnold being a traitor really depends on which side you view him from...he had already negotiated with the British in 1779, and West Point was a year after that...and you know the saying...whose house is of glass, must not throw stones at another. Besides, there is the whole history of -"

"Who the fuck _are_ you? Professor Emeritus of History? You can remember Benedict fucking Arnold but not _Dirty Dancing?"_

"Emeritus is a title given to those who have retired..." Ted managed to earn another glare with that one.

Maybe I should be a bit more careful in what I blurt out, Justin thought. He had never been good at keeping his thoughts to himself. That was one of the very reasons he was here to begin with.

"So...when are you seeing him again? The big second date?" Emmett was looking at Michael, trying hard to steer the conversation on to calmer seas.

Justin was surprised. Michael had paused drooling over Brian long enough to get himself a date?

"Tomorrow evening. I know I'm going to mess it up again. Why the fuck do people go on dates, anyway?"

Brian laughed. "The point of a date, or so it's been explained to me by those who do that sort of thing, is that you actually get to know the other person before you fuck them."

"Those who do that sort of thing? You mean you've never been on a date?" Justin stared at Brian. A man that looked that good had never managed a date? That was just insane.

"I've been on a date. Once. I ended up fucking the waiter."

" _What?_ You're twenty nine years old and you've only been on one date?"

"I don't _need_ dates."

"How will you meet people then?"

"Why would I want to meet people?"

Ugh, he was _so_ infuriating. " _Men_. How else will you meet men? You know, find a guy, fall in love..."

The entire table started laughing. Brian smirked.

"I don't believe in love. I believe in fucking. It's honest. It's efficient. You get in and out with a maximum of pleasure and a minimum of bullshit. Love is something that straight people tell themselves they're in so that they can get laid. And then they end up hurting each other because it was all based on lies to begin with."

"You're joking, right? Brian? You can't seriously believe what you just said?"

What was wrong with this man? Of course, that's what it had been. At the hospital...in Debbie's kitchen...maximum of pleasure and minimum of...

Michael was laughing. "You should see the expression on your face, Justin. It's priceless! Brian Kinney doesn't _do_ love."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. In fact, this entire conversation is hogwash. Straight people don't have to tell themselves that they're in love to get laid - they can get in and out just as easily as you can. In fact, they _do_. Maybe if you met normal straight people, instead of the homophobic bigots you choose to work for, you'd realize that. And people don't hurt each other because they're in love, or because love is a lie - people hurt each other because that's human nature. To be selfish. To do what's best for yourself instead of what's best for somebody else. Love or no love, lies or no lies, humans will go on hurting each other for all eternity."

The whole table was deathly quiet and Brian and Justin were glaring at each other. The air was heavy with tension. There was an undertone to the conversation that no one could recognize. Or acknowledge.

"Oh? Do tell. Another one of your sociology sermons, is it?"

"Better my sociology sermons than your false bravado. You don't even make any sense. You can't switch feelings on and off like a faucet. Can you suddenly decide _not_ to feel angry listening to me talk? I mean, instead of clutching your glass till your knuckles turn white and clenching your jaw till you're grinding your teeth, can't you just, I dunno, decide that you don't 'do' anger? Maybe you can stop believing in it, like you don't believe in love?"

"Or maybe I should drag your blonde ass outside and show you _exactly_ how much I do anger."

"Maybe you should. Seriously, Brian, you sound like your twelve. You're such a liar and you know it. I don't _believe_ in love. I don't _do_ love," Justin mimicked, an octave too high. "Guess what? You don't get to choose. You can't choose not 'do' love like you can choose not to 'do' a particular dance move. That's like saying I don't 'do' sleep. You're going to fall asleep eventually, whether you like or not. The same way you're going to fall in love."

"That's enough. You don't know Brian; you don't know any of us. Who the fuck do you think you are -"

"I'm clearly the only person here who doesn't indulge Brian in his strange delusions." Justin shifted his gaze to Michael. "Do _you_ actually believe this nonsense he's spouting? Or are you just being a horrible friend by encouraging it, all the while knowing that it's rubbish? I mean, surely you know that he loves you. Loves Deb and Vic -"

"That's completely different!"

Justin rolled his eyes. "How is it different, Michael? Love is love...It's the same thing in a different form. Snow and ice are still forms of water, you know? If you can do one, you can just as easily do the other. So if Brian can love you and Deb and Vic and even Ted -"

"I sure as fuck don't love Ted."

"Of course you do. You were willing to pull the plug for him. Why would anyone make that kind of choice for someone they didn't love?"

Too late, it struck Justin that once again he had opened his mouth and said way too much. Way, _way_ too much. Hazel irises flashed at him for a moment, before hiding behind an opaque lens.

Michael and Emmett both looked utterly confused, neither knowing what to say. Ted, however, read the situation correctly and made the most sensible suggestion of the evening.

"Come Justin, I'll drop you home. I think we've all been here long enough for today."

He nodded mutely at Ted, who reached out to put his hand on Justin's shoulder.

But when he felt no impact, Justin turned to see Brian taking Ted's hand and placing it on the table, like it was a half-eaten piece of meat.

"Why don't you take Emmett and Mikey home? I'll drop Sunshine here."

Warning signs started flashing immediately.

"It's ok, really, I can find my own way -"

"I insist."

When a strong arm snaked its way around his waist and steered him away purposefully, Justin realized that any further objections he might have raised would be utterly futile.

 

* * *

 

"What a load of horse shit."

Justin, who had been as quiet as a mouse, looked at him in surprise.

"I beg your pardon...?"

Brian rolled his eyes. That must have been some finishing school Justin attended. "All that in there about meeting people and love. Horse shit."

"It's not....it's _not."_

Was little Sunshine having trouble swearing? Where was he running away from - the Buckingham Palace?

"It's not what?" Brian watched in glee as Justin squirmed.

"It's not...horse...shit."

"Now, that wasn't so difficult to say, was it?" he watched as the blonde glared at him.

"So that wasn't some show in there? You actually believe that you don't 'do' love?"

"Obviously."

"What drives you then? What -"

"Sex."

"Sex?"

"Sex. Lust. The urge to fuck someone. That's all I need. In fact, that's all anyone needs."

"That is such patent nonsense! Lust means nothing if there is no love."

Brian laughed outright when he heard that. "Really? Shall I take you to Babylon now? The backroom there would give you an instant education on what lust means."

"Oh please." Justin rolled his eyes in a most infuriatingly ado - no. He rolled his eyes in a most infuriating manner. "The backroom would just show me two dozen men getting high on lust. That doesn't make it meaningful in the least. Brian, you cannot go through life in this world without loving another person."

"Of course I can. Observe and learn." Brian heard a snort.

"Thanks, but I'd rather go elsewhere for my lessons rather than learning delusions from you."

"Justin. Wake up and smell the coffee. Sex makes you feel good, without any of the emotional baggage that comes along with love. There's nothing delusional about it."

"Of course there is! What you're describing is just a transient, temporary feeling. It isn't an emotion; it's a physical sensation that doesn't last. How could that possibly be the only thing a person needs?"

Brian glanced at Justin from the corner of his eye. How could any human being be this naïve? "Who the fuck cares if it is an emotion or not? It makes you feel good; that's all that matters."

Justin scoffed. "Love makes you feel better," he stated emphatically. "Besides, just think about what you're saying. Lust...or sex...it's just a physical release. If you think that's enough to sustain you throughout your life, you're no better than an animal."

God, Justin was annoying the living daylights out of him. Brian gripped the wheel, briefly contemplating ramming the jeep against a lamppost before he decided to remain on the road. "What, just because I enjoy physical pleasure, you turn me into an ape? What do _you_ do when you're on your own? Self flagellate?"

"I'm an - _why_ are you deliberately misunderstanding what I'm saying? I'm not saying that you're the equivalent of your Darwinian ancestors. I'm just saying...based on your own comments...if all you want is sex, and that too is just a purely physical thing for you, you're just continuously having a basic, animal reaction."

He turned to glare at Justin, but the blonde prattled on, seemingly oblivious to the mercury rising within Brian.

"I mean...your partners are exchangeable...they might as well not have any faces...all you do is use their bodies anyway. You surround yourself with all these riches...your expensive, immaculate clothes and - not that I've ever seen it - but your apparently luxurious apartment with its so-fine Italian furniture, somehow seeming to be a cut above the rest, but in reality, isn't all that meaningless? Surrounding yourself with beauty and art and all that, trying to appear so superior when your actions are saying that you're living in the Stone Age, no different from some primal beast."

Stupid fucking twat. At least Michael and Lindsay knew when they went too far and when to shut up. Not that either of them had ever analyzed Brian Kinney to this extent. Justin seemed to be in no hurry to shut up, and Brian had long passed the point of being able to tolerate any more of this conversation. "Listen, you -"

"Unless you're lying. Which of course, I think you are. I mean you _do_ love people, despite all your protestations to the contrary...like Michael and Debbie and Lindsay..."

"How lovely. Now I'm an ape that lies. Michael and Lindsay are different."

"I was thinking of animals more primal than apes, but I'll let that pass. How on earth are Michael and Lindsay different?"

"I don't love them. They're old friends; I care about them." Brian was pleased to see that Justin looked suitably horrified. He no longer cared about saying remotely truthful; his prime objective was to rattle and annoy Justin. Admitting that he loved Lindsay and Michael would only set Justin off about how all love was the same thing, and Brian absolutely did not want to hear that again.

"You care about them? You don't love them?"

"I think that's what I said."

"So if they were to die, it wouldn't affect you?"

"Of course it would affect me. I'd miss them."

"And you don't think that means something? Like maybe you more than care about them?"

"It means that if you've known someone for almost ten years, if they suddenly were to disappear, you'd miss them. If Emmett were to die, I'd miss him too. It's a break in routine."

"A...a _break in routine?_ " Brian smiled in glee as Justin sputtered. "Brian...you're not serious!"

"Of course I am. If Kiki were to suddenly die, I'd miss her too. There is a certain familiarity in walking into the diner everyday and seeing her ugly mug."

"How can you be so flippant about death? When you thought Ted was dying, you weren't so glib about it."

Brian's eyes narrowed. Exactly when had Ted woken up? How much had he heard, and how much of that had he shared with Justin? Something was off, though Brian couldn't put his finger on it.

"I don't recall _you_ being around when Ted was playing Sleeping non-Beauty because of his first blonde twink. The fuck do you know?"

It was interesting to watch Justin squirm under his glare.

"Nothing...aside from what Ted mentioned. I think I heard...uh...Melanie talking about it...with...Debbie. Anyway, that's beside the point. My point is that you say 'care' when you mean 'love'. You love Michael and Lindsay, and if you'll miss Kiki, then you really care about her too. "

"So now I care about Kiki do I, Dr. Taylor?"

"Of course you do...we all care about the people around us."

" _I'm_ around you. Does that mean you care about me?" Brian couldn't wait to see Justin backpedal, and was annoyed when the blonde did no such thing and merely rolled his eyes, sighing.

"Well _of course_ I care about you. I don't particularly like you; in fact, I mostly _dis_ like you, but still, we belong to the same community, the same social group - in a manner of speaking - I know you. I wouldn't wish harm on you and I hope that you would lead a long and fulfilling life full of _love_ and joy. If you were to die, I would feel bad."

"How touching. Can't say I return the sentiment though. If you care about people you don't even like, you must be head over heels in love with those you do. Like Theodore. Which would explain a lot...no wonder you don't value sex."

"You are _so_ predictable. Ted is a friend. A really good friend. I love him the same way I love Debbie. Or the same way _you_ love Debbie."

"Does Theodore know that?"

"What?"

"Are you really that naïve or are you simply assuming that I'm a dunce? Ted is interested in you, and I can assure you it's not in the same way that you're interested in Debbie."

Justin opened his mouth, closed it again and seemed to pick his words carefully. "Ted knows how much I value his friendship. I have no doubt in my mind that he knows exactly what and how I feel towards him."

Brian had no doubt in _his_ mind that there was a hell of a lot going on between Ted and Justin than what met the eye. He was, however, pretty certain that sex wasn't one of those going ons. Brian couldn't understand why the thought of Justin and Ted together irked him so much. Or made him so damn angry.

"You know, you should put poor Ted out of his misery. Sleep with him once. Or twice, if you can close your eyes long enough. A pity fuck. I'm sure he'd appreciate the gesture."

"I'm sure he _wouldn't_. I certainly couldn't sleep with someone I didn't feel a deeper connection with. I'm not you, able to switch parts of myself on and off just to serve my need to manipulate those around me, along with the basest animal instinct within myself."

"Well, of _course_ you're not me. Sweet, saintly widdle Justin must be waiting for his knight in shining armour to come riding up on his white horse and exchange rings before he has sex. Am I right?" It had been a very long time since anyone had made Brian this angry.

Justin bristled. " _No,_ you are _not_ right. I don't need declarations of eternal love before I have sex with someone; I just need...I just need that connection. I need some emotional connect with the person that goes beyond mere friendship...a kind of understanding, a passion that comes from the heart...I couldn't possibly feel physically attracted to a man that I didn't share some bond with and...oh what's the point? You wouldn't understand what I mean and even if you do, you'd just pretend to be obtuse about it like you pretend about everything else."

"I _don't_ understand it. I think all your bullshit psychobabble about love and feelings will disappear the minute someone fucks you into the mattress well and good."

They had pulled up outside of Debbie's house and Brian killed the engine, though there was some doubt that Justin noticed.

"I don't need -"

Brian cut Justin off. "Your problem is that no one has ever touched you right. What you need is to find out what you've been missing and then we will finally have an end to this mind-numbing shit that you're spewing out. What you need is to have someone make you feel like a man, not some blonde blue-eyed angel who's just fallen from the sky."

It was supposed to be just a kiss. That was all. A kiss to teach this annoying, non-stop chattering, holier-than-thou blonde that there was no way he'd win against Brian Kinney. It was primal animal instinct Justin was preaching against, so that was exactly what he was going to get.

So when he put his hand behind Justin's neck and forcibly moved the younger man's face towards his own, it was exactly according to the last minute plan he had hatched. Slamming his own lips against Justin's was also part of the self-same plan. He attacked Justin with a carnal ferocity that he didn't have to simulate, and he told himself that it was also part of the plan.

The minute their lips made contact, Justin moaned a low, deep moan, his body instinctively turning into Brian's, as though of it had a will of its own. Brian didn't just kiss Justin, he consumed him. Justin seemed wholly unable to refuse, giving in willingly to the kiss, allowing Brian to push him backwards against the seat as Brian moved practically on top of him.

Really, he should have stopped. There was absolutely no need to go any further. But like Justin, Brian's body moved with a will all its own. He couldn't get close enough to Justin, maneuvering over console and gears in the jeep. He couldn't feel enough of the blonde's body writhing underneath his own, Justin's hands moving lower and lower from his chest.

Brian couldn't remember the last time he had felt even a fraction of what he was feeling now. Backroom Babylon fuck this was not. It was leaps and bounds ahead of that.

He pulled away from Justin to come up for air, his breath coming out in harsh gusts. He looked at Justin, hair tousled, eyes glazed and unfocused, staring back at him, screaming silently at him to continue.

With supreme, superhuman effort, Brian managed to disentangle his hand from Justin's bod

y to unlock the door on the passenger's side. It took him even more effort than that to pull his body off Justin's, and when the younger man practically whimpered, Brian was almost ready to gun the engine and drive straight to the loft. Almost. It took all Brian's strength to speak and to appear cool, calm and collected at the same time.

"I am _so_ glad that you are above this sort of thing...what a pity it would be if you were to actually feel attracted to a man based solely on physical needs. Good night, Sunshine."

It was almost gut-wrenchingly painful to watch blue pupils dilate even further before shock and hurt started pooling into them. But Justin did an admirable job of pulling on his mask in record time, clambering out of the jeep and slamming the door. He didn't turn back once, even though Brian found it impossible to drive away until Justin had quietly entered the house, closing the door behind him.

That most definitely was not part of the plan.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Next morning at the diner**

 

_What a pity it would be if you were to actually feel attracted to a man based solely on physical needs_

Had it been merely a matter of pity, Justin could have let it go. But it was so much more than that. How dare Brian? Even more importantly, how dare  _he?_ What had come over him, inside Brian's jeep? Justin was completely, thoroughly ashamed of himself. He knew that had Brian continued, they would have in all likelihood ended up having sex and Justin would have not only been powerless to stop it, he would have actually  _enjoyed_ it. Well, perhaps a lot more than merely enjoyed. Justin blushed, just thinking about it.

Was he wrong? Was sex really as meaningless and purely physical as Brian made it out to be? Because there was no way that there was any type of emotional connection between himself and Brian; that was  _impossible_. There was zero passion from the heart and absolutely no kind of understanding between the two, much less a bond.

Justin desperately wanted to believe in his own words, but Brian had thrown him into utter confusion.  _Maybe I should go to Babylon and see if it'll be like that with other random men as well._

He sighed, deeply dejected. He had cried and been kissed - both for the first time - within the span of 12 hours. And he was utterly confused and frustrated and angry. He wanted his first kiss to have been with someone he  _liked._ Not with someone who was so cold and callous and determined to hurt him. And why had he ended up crying when he had spoken to Vic about it earlier? Weren't humans supposed to cry when they were sad? About something important? This...this wasn't important. And he certainly wasn't sad. He had been angry. Frustrated. Hurt. He still was.

"It isn't worth it."

Justin looked at Vic, temporarily having forgotten that the older man had come with him to the diner, concerned about how Justin had been. They had shared a long conversation in the morning, back at Deb's, though it had done very little to ease the myriad of confusing thoughts and emotions that were battling inside him. Vic obviously felt that there was more that needed to be discussed.

"I'm ok. I really am. It's just...why was he so hurtful? You know what? That doesn't even matter. Is he right? I hate him, and still...when he...when I..." Justin faltered.

"First of all, he isn't right. Brian Kinney is rarely right about anything dealing with human emotion. But you have to understand something. We're gay. We spent years being conditioned to hide who we are, what we feel. When you spend a lifetime hiding things, sometimes you end up forgetting what you hid and where you hid it. You hide things so well that you lose it.

And sex is the easiest thing to indulge in. It's very straightforward. When you pick up a man in a bar, there is no pretence. You want sex, that's exactly what you ask for. A bathroom stall, the back alley...it's easy and convenient. For a lot of men, that is the only honesty they have in their entire day. And no matter what anyone will tell you, we all need honesty in our lives. We all need that ten minutes where you completely stop pretending, you get to be yourself and you don't get punished for it."

"But...how did any of that become my fault? Why hurt me for it? Why couldn't he just tell me that he thought I was wrong and let it be?" Somewhere, in an abstract realm, Justin knew that Vic made sense, but at that moment, that realm was wholly beyond his reach.

"Justin, if Brian wanted to hurt you, he'd have taken you to his place, had sex with you and then kicked you out, all within the hour. He just wanted to prove his point. People hardly challenge him even when they know he is wrong, and you went and challenged the very core. And much the same way, he challenges you. Instead of blindly accepting you like Debbie or Kiki does, or fawning over you the way the men here do. Look, if you were going to be human forever, I'd ask for you to look for a balance...but you're here only for a short while. Forget about Brian Kinney and all the others like him; go out, find people who are younger and happier and have fun. Enjoy yourself. Don't make other people's problems your problems."

Justin shook his head; it wasn't in his nature to be moody and despondent and he was sure that if he spent time pondering over Vic's words long enough, they would start making sense to him. He nodded, smiling brightly to let Vic know that he was all right.

A bright smile that froze, and then disappeared entirely, as he took in the sight of Brian, Michael and Ted. Justin was shocked by the intensity of the emotions within him, and he struggled to hold the pot of coffee steady and not give into the voice inside his head that was screaming at him to throw the contents of the pot at Brian.

_Listen to Vic. Listen to Vic. Listen to Vic._

"You look like shit Brian; didn't you get  _any_  sleep last night? I'd make his coffee extra dark Sunshine."

Justin looked at Brian coldly, and was pleased to note that there was a great amount of truth to what Debbie had just stated. Undoubtedly, Brian must have headed straight back to Babylon after dropping Justin last night. He wondered if the man had gone back to his own apartment to just shower and change.

"I'll have a  _regular_ coffee. And I slept just fine Debbie; nice of you to be so concerned."

"Ted, Michael, what would the both of you like?"

Ignoring Brian, Justin took the order of the other two men, and found it necessary to personally give the order to the cook and wait in the kitchen till both orders were ready. He walked back to the counter and served them, smiling.

"Are you fucking  _growing_  the coffee beans?"

"How remiss of me. Your coffee. Coming right up."

And to Debbie's amusement and Brian's exasperation, Justin started brewing a fresh pot.

After what seemed like an eternity, he placed a cup of coffee in front of Brian.

"One cup of coffee. Extra dark. Did you need anything else?"

"I asked for  _regular._ "

"Pardon me. Shall I brew you a fresh cup?"

Brian glared at him, and Justin vaguely registered the interest with which Michael, Ted and Debbie were following their exchange.

"So I can have it with my lunch? No.  _Thanks._ And get me a whole-wheat turkey sandwich, no mayo, to go."

"You really should watch your caffeine intake. Too much coffee causes impotency. But then, given your age and alcohol consumption, I suppose you'll be impotent with or without coffee, so perhaps there's no real need for you to change your breakfast habit." Justin smiled sweetly at Brian and headed to the kitchen once more.

"Did you sleep with him?" He heard Michael ask Brian, and Justin felt fresh tears sting his eyes.

_He just wanted to prove his point._

And in that moment, Justin realized why Vic's words had failed to make him feel any better; in spite of himself, Justin had genuinely desired Brian in those few minutes inside the jeep. For Brian, it had just been a sham. A means to prove his point.  _So this is what rejection feels like._

"Jimmy, can I have a whole-wheat chicken sandwich, no mayo, to go?"

Jimmy looked at him, confused. "I saw Kinney come in; is that his order? Doesn't he normally have turkey? You okay, Justin?"

"I'm fine. Just...allergies, I think. He said he'll try the chicken today."

Let Brian eat the chicken. Justin had no problem forking over money if Brian decided to come back and complain about the wrong order.

He glanced at the clock above the coffee maker. Another two hours before his break. Justin knew that Soli would be waiting for him in the alley, even if all he could spend with the dog was fifteen minutes before he would have to get back to work. He smiled unconsciously, thoughts turning to Soli. He loved that dog almost as much as he loved Daphne; Justin was convinced that at some level, Soli understood every word that Justin told her, even if she was just a dog.

 

* * *

 

_**Later in the afternoon, at Melanie's office** _

 

"Justin, you wanted to see me?" Melanie was looking at him with undisguised curiosity.

"Um...yes. I was thinking...thinking a lot about what everyone was discussing last night during dinner. About Stockwell. I think it's terrible what he is planning to do and...and I think it's scary that he might actually win. Debbie and Vic showed me the newspaper this morning, and the polls say that Stockwell is leading."

Melanie sighed, rubbing her temple with one hand and tossing a newspaper at him with the other. "You mean this poll? He's up by two points since last week. Fucking Brian and his fucking campaign. Stockwell was  _behind_ three months ago. And now he's leading the fucking pack."

"If all of us does whatever little we can, we should be able to outdo Brian, his campaign and Stockwell. This isn't right Melanie, and instead of just sitting around talking about it, we should be out on the street, doing everything we can to stop it. If we don't at least  _try_  to make a difference, we won't have any right to complain about what happens.

From everyone I know, you seem to be the most aware of this situation and the most involved. I came to see you because I want to help; I want to get involved. I want to do whatever it takes to beat Stockwell. Can you tell me what to do?"

The smile Melanie gave him was almost as bright as one of his own.

 

* * *

 

_**Back at the diner, during the evening shift** _

 

Justin couldn't believe how busy his day had suddenly become. He was working the evening at the diner, which gave Debbie time to relax before she came back in for the graveyard shift. Melanie was expecting him at her home by nine o'clock the latest, where she was going to give him pamphlets and a thorough run through on the evils of Stockwell, so that Justin could then join the handful of volunteers who were trying to engage the Liberty Avenue crowd one on one, convincing them why they needed to vote against him. Justin knew that it would effectively eat up all the free time he had, but he didn't mind at all. It wasn't as if he had anything better to do, and he was determined to do something useful during his time as a human.

Justin also wasn't immune to the effect his looks had on men, so he figured that he might be able to cover more ground if he started staking out Woody's and other similar pubs, turning on the blonde boy charm before reeling his prey in for political chit chat and activism. There was absolutely no way that he was going to sit back and watch while Brian Kinney and his slick campaign pulled the rug out from underneath everybody's feet. No  _way_.

He walked up to the counter from the kitchen, where he had put some food away for Soli. Justin knew the dog was waiting for him in the alley; he had seen Soli out there during his short break.

Along with helping Melanie with her out-there activism, Justin was formulating another plan slowly. A plan of his own. Brian might have glossy posters and smooth television ads and millions of dollars at his disposal, but Justin had seen enough of the world to know that there were ways to reach the masses without having to resort to television and radio. He would need time though, which he had. He would probably need the help of one more person at some point; Justin planned on trying to get Daphne to help, but he knew that help in the form of a willing human would also eventually be necessary. That human would have to be Vic. Given the older man's views, Justin was fairly certain that he would play along. Money was the other thing that he desperately needed to make his plan work, and that was the one thing he most definitely didn't have. His earnings from the diner would only stretch so far, and on this point, Daphne would  _have_ to help out.

Justin was so engrossed in his thoughts that he at first missed the new customers that seated themselves at a booth opposite the counter. But when the phrase 'Michael's boyfriend' was uttered by Kiki, Justin's eyes and ears perked up, taking in the scene before him.

Indeed, Michael was seated in the booth with a considerably older, considerably better looking and considerably more strapping man. So this must be the second date. The muscle-bound man was not to his taste, but objectively speaking, he was good looking. Michael, on the other hand...Justin frowned.  _Was that Brian's jacket he was wearing? Ugh._  With a roll of his eyes, Justin walked towards them, notepad in hand, and managed to hear the better part of their conversation in the process. In fact, he was so taken by what he was hearing that he failed to ask for their order for several minutes.

"Is that Hugo Boss?" Mr. Muscle-bound asked Michael.

Justin frowned, and followed Michael's gaze as the other man craned his neck and looked behind him.

"Where?"

Who was Hugo? Justin hadn't heard anybody mention him before.

Mr. Muscle-bound pointed to Michael's upper body. "Your jacket."

Justin was completely lost, but he was fairly sure that Michael had just made a fool of himself. This meant that Justin had also made the selfsame mistake, which didn't sit well with him at all.

Michael laughed. "Oh... um, yep. It's... it's not even mine. Belongs to my friend Brian."

"I bet he doesn't look half as good in it as you." Muscle-bound was clearly laying it on thick.

"He looks better." Michael beamed.

_Fabulous. Not half an hour into dinner and he's gushing about Brian. I've never even been on a date and I bet I could do better._

"Find that hard to believe."

Justin rolled his eyes at that one, and realized that Michael was mirroring his action, though out of embarrassment.

"He can look good in anything. He even looks good in nothing."

 _Yeah, I bet you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?_ Justin felt himself getting more and more annoyed by the passing second.

"Good body?"

 _Better than yours._ Justin shook his head.  _Where_ did  _that_  thought come from?

"Awesome. When he walks into Babylon, heads turn like police lights just to look at him."

_Shut up, Michael. Brian can't hear you!_

"Sounds like I could make a fortune doing neck adjustments."

Justin didn't know what that meant, but he was beginning to feel sorry for Muscle-bound. How horrible it must be, to be on a date with a person who spent the evening yapping about another man. No, not just yapping. Drooling.

"Everybody wants him."

_Shut up shut up shut up!_

"Do you?"

_Go, Muscle-bound, just go. Get up, and walk out. Michael's been salivating since he was fourteen; 'want him' would be the understatement of the century. This is a train wreck waiting to happen._

Michael laughed, embarrassed. "Me, no. He's my best friend... since high school. We'd never..."

_Doesn't mean you don't want to, you liar._

"Good. I was starting to get jealous."

_Ugh. What do you even see in him?_

Deciding that he had heard enough,Justin walked right up to their table, as Michael replied.

"Don't worry. Besides, he's not even interested in me."

"Good evening. What can I get both of you?"

Michael frowned at Justin slightly, but Muscle-bound was still looking at Michael.

"I'm surprised. I'd think it would be very easy to be interested in you."

_Ugh. Barf barf barf. I think NOT._

Muscle-bound turned to smile at Justin, reading his name-tag. "What do you recommend, Justin?"

"I'd go with the meatloaf this evening."

"Meatloaf it is then."

"Michael, what about you?"

Muscle-bound looked from Justin to Michael in surprise. "You two know each other?"

"I'm a regular here."

Justin had to bite his tongue from snickering aloud at Michael's explanation. "I also live with Michael's mother and uncle, so we know each other in more ways than one."

Muscle-bound's smile grew, even as Michael's face dimmed. "Well then Justin, I'm David Cameron. It's lovely to meet one of Michael's friends...or are you family?"

Justin plastered his patented angel smile. "Friend, living with family. Pleased to meet you too, David. Michael couldn't stop talking about you last night. Perhaps I'll see you around more often?"

"I'll have a burger and fries." This time, Michael didn't bother to hide the glare.

"I know Michael will have a diet Coke; what about you, David?"

"I suppose there's no wine?" David laughed, so Justin assumed it was a joke and chuckled with him. "Just water for me."

"Coming right up!"

Annoying Michael was almost as satisfying as annoying Brian. Besides, given what he just witnessed, Justin figured that Michael deserved it. Justin paused at the next booth, taking their order and keeping one ear trained on David and Michael.

"You really like wine, huh? I remember you had it last time."

Justin was impressed; Michael actually retained some information about a person other than Brian.

"I have a collection. I just bought a bottle of '61 Petrus on eBay."

_Bay? Wasn't Pittsburgh landlocked? Maybe it was the name of a store._

"Oh my God, you go on eBay? You would not believe what I just got. A May 1960 Flash from the Silver Age, 'The Mystery Of The Elongated Man.' I have been looking for this for years...uh, it's a... it's a comic book. I have a collection."

Justin walked into the kitchen, shaking his head. He truly felt sorry for David.

 

* * *

 

_**Much later in the evening, at Melanie and Lindsay's place** _

 

Justin sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by leaflets and maps and charts. Gus had been asleep when he got here, which disappointed him, even though it was ridiculous to expect that a toddler would be up so late. After sitting with Justin and explaining what Melanie and some of her like-minded friends and volunteers were doing to counter Stockwell's propaganda, she had given him a whole heap of papers to go through. If he had any questions, he could ask her, and then she'd tell him what exactly was expected from him for the next few days.

Right now, Melanie was speaking to Lindsay in the dining room, and the voices carried loud enough for Justin to hear them. He gathered that one Brian Kinney had been expected for dinner; to nobody's great surprise, he was a no-show.

"How long can you keep the chicken warm?"

"It's fine, I wrapped it in foil."

Justin wished that he hadn't said that he already had dinner; the smell of that chicken was making his mouth water.

"Sounds like my mom's recipe: cook for one week, remove all flavor, eat."

Melanie was sassy; he liked that about her. He also liked the fact that despite all her rough edges, Melanie seemed to truly adore Lindsay. There was no mistaking the love she had for the other woman. Justin heard a slight movement, and then Melanie's voice again.

"Hey. Might as well face it, honey, he's not gonna show up."

"You know Brian, he's always..."

"...fashionably late? When will you ever learn?"

Soon after that exchange, Melanie joined him once again. It was a good thing that he had spent the better part of eternity researching people and storing centuries worth of information in his head; otherwise there was no way Justin could have kept up with Melanie. But Melanie was Justin's only source of - free - information, and he had to gather enough data not only to be able to engage people openly, but also to plan his covert campaign.

Justin wasn't sure of the time, but he was certain that it was much later, when he heard a rapping on the door. He looked at Melanie, who had paused mid-sentence and was starting to get up off the floor when they both noticed a pajama-clad Lindsay walk to the door.

In silent agreement, both Melanie and Justin stopped speaking, but they could only hear Lindsay's end of the conversation, and muffled replies on the other end.

"The kitchen's closed."

The visitor, whoever it was, rapped on the door once more, and they heard Lindsay open it this time.

"Sorry I missed dinner."

Oh  _no._ Brian Kinney.

Melanie rolled her eyes, echoing Justin's thoughts.

"Don't apologize. It doesn't become you. And don't think you can flash that smile and get away with it. That might have been cute at twenty, but at thirty, it's starting to get pathetic."

There was a sound of the door being closed.  _Did he leave?_

"Twenty-nine."

_No such luck._

"Have you eaten?"

"No."

"Come on."

Melanie muttered under her breath, and Justin looked up as Brian walked (well, more like waltzed) into the living room.

On the bright side, Brian looked as annoyed at seeing Justin there as Justin had been annoyed at hearing Brian's voice. Lindsay had disappeared into the kitchen, so after glaring at him, Brian fixed his eyes on Melanie.

"What the hell is  _he_  doing here?

 


	7. Chapter 7

Melanie and Justin had remained in the living room, while Lindsay had taken him into the kitchen, looking none too pleased.

"Since when did Justin start working with Melanie?" Neither Melanie nor Justin had volunteered too much information to his earlier question, apart from the fact that Justin was helping Melanie on a 'project'. Lindsay would be infinitely easier to pry details out of, Brian thought.

"He's not working with her, Brian. He's helping her on the election...you know, educate people about the  _real_ Stockwell. Trying to undo the damage  _you're_ doing."

"Well, I wish them both luck. They'll need it."

As Lindsay placed a plate of chicken in front of him, Brian remembered his earlier meal from the diner; he had almost spat out the mouthful he had taken of the sandwich when he had realized what the stupid blonde had done. Brian refused to let himself be amused by Justin's antics; there was nothing at all funny about it and that was all there was to it.

Lindsay prattled on, her relief at Brian having turned up clearly winning out over her annoyance with him and Brian listened with half an ear as he let his mind wander. It was becoming quite clear to him that Justin Taylor was determined to lock horns with him in every manner possible, whether Justin realized it or not.

In fact, he was as annoyed as fuck with both Lindsay and Justin. Lindsay, because against his better judgment (and Michael's), she had convinced him to have a child with her. And now, in spite of himself, here he was, sitting in her kitchen, Gus gurgling away in his arms. Domesticity was contagious it seemed, and the steady diet of drugs and alcohol hadn't sufficiently immunized his system.

He was annoyed with Justin because of...well... for the events of the previous evening, for one thing. Justin had pissed him off beyond belief with his sanctimonious speeches, and Brian had wanted to wring the blonde's neck when parts of his speech had started replaying in his head like a cheap Hallmark movie voiceover today, while he fought a losing battle with his conscience over Marvin Telson. Looking over baby pictures at Babylon had merely been amusing; being told that having sex trumped over being with a six year old with a broken arm was anything but.

I should have just slept with the fucker, Brian thought. I should have just screwed him over, and thought to hell with his daughter and wife and family and love and all the other bullshit that I've managed to steer clear of for the better part of my life. But nooooooooo. This blonde fucker stuffs my head with ideas I don't even believe in, and suddenly, here I am, putting someone  _else's_ family above my career.

What I need is to go to Babylon, Brian figured. To get drunk and high and fuck someone into oblivion. Yup, that's what I'm going to do, he decided, even as he nodded and mumbled a generic response to Lindsay's question.

"Great! I'll go tell them. This way, you can show Mel that you have a compassionate, human side," Lindsay said, winking at him.

"Huh? What?" Fuck, what had he agreed to  _now?_

"I'll go tell Melanie and Justin to let us know when they're done so you can drop him at Deb's place. He's really not bad, you know. Extremely polite and well brought up. His poor parents; they must miss him terribly. I don't know  _what_  I'd do if I lost Gus somewhere..."

Fuck fuck  _fuck._ Brian cursed. Dropping Justin at Debbie's was the last thing on the planet that he wanted to do. Scenes from the previous evening threatened to overtake his imagination (and other body parts) and Brian cursed some more. Two blow jobs and a cold shower hadn't managed to quell the frustration he had felt last night; he had had to wait all morning for Vance to do the honours with his preaching about bottom lines.

Realizing that Lindsay had already left, Brian followed her into the living room, thinking that he had better go in there and put an end to this nonsense.

"Don't be silly Justin; you wouldn't be imposing on Brian at all," Lindsay was saying."In fact, Brian offered to drop you himself."

"Yeah, I just bet he did, but really, I can walk."

Melanie's eyes darted between Justin to Brian, and he knew the instant she figured out that there was something amiss between the two of them.

"Hmf. He's worked all day and halfway into the night and he'd still rather walk home than get into a vehicle alone with you. Great going, Kinney."

"What?" Lindsay looked confused.

Poor Lindsay, Brian thought. The only one in the room who hadn't figured it out yet.

"It's not an imposition, so don't worry about it. Brian certainly doesn't mind. Right, Brian?"

Melanie snickered.

"I can walk,  _really_. And there's Soli, too. She's waiting outside."

That prompted an outright guffaw from Melanie.

"You and a  _dog_ , in his jeep? That'll be the day! Besides, we all know that the only place he wants to go to is Babylon." Melanie sent a defiant glare Brian's way before patting Justin's shoulder. "You go on home safely, sweetie, and come by my office tomorrow and we'll try and do something about getting you a social security number, ok? You know I'd have dropped you if the car wasn't being serviced."

There was a silent challenge in Melanie's eyes that he was incapable of backing down from. Grinding his teeth, Brian looked around the room, and decided that his death, however it may happen, would undoubtedly be because of the three people in this room.

"I. Will. Take. Him. To. Debbie's," he hissed at Melanie, while gently handing over the sleeping Gus to Lindsay. He then turned towards Justin.

"Get the fuck in the jeep. Now. With the damn dog."

 

* * *

 

There was a hunger Brian was feeling, and it had nothing whatsoever to do with food. It had everything to do with the blonde inside his jeep, and something told Brian that this particular hunger was going to keep him awake two nights in a row.

He glanced at the dog, trying to distract himself. Despite the fact that the dog looked cleaner than the first time Brian had seen her, he made a mental note to get the jeep serviced as soon as possible. Still...

There was something about the way Justin was with the dog - Soli, as Justin called her - that kept you from dismissing her outright. Brian still thought she was an incredibly unfortunate dog to be born with a set of features that were not meant to belong together. But now she was beginning to look...homely, the way the bulldog on  _Tom & Jerry _started to grow on you after a while. Justin had placed her at his feet, but the dog had found her way on to his lap. When Brian indicated that he wasn't pleased with that, Justin had proceeded to share his seat with the mongrel, who now formed a panting, slobbery wall between Brian and Justin (not that it helped). At least she was clean and healthy and... _cute?_

 _Ugh._  Brian shook his head at the thought.  _I will not turn into a lesbian, even if it's about a dog._

In response to his thoughts, a wet tongue made its way up and down his forearm.  _Not_ the tongue Brian wanted.

" _Non Soli!_ No."

There it was again; Justin and his Euro-speak. Brian didn't flinch, but looked at the blonde from the corner of his eye.

What the fuck was going on here? Justin was clearly American...and yet, he was also  _very_ clearly something else. Something else he was desperately trying to hide.

"Soli, you can't do that. You're not part of his  _routine._  You're not  _familiar._ He doesn't want to have sex with you either. I think."

That earned Justin an outright glare. Fucking twat.

Justin buried his face into Soli's back, and Brian could swear that he was trying to hide a smile. "He doesn't want to be liked, Soli. He wants to be cold and mean so you can't try and go make friends with the scary man, ok? That's right; just stay close to me like a good dog, hmmm?"

Soli wasn't the only one in the jeep that wanted Justin's face buried in his...in his dick...

Brian's hands gripped the steering wheel; he was  _not_ a horny teenager. He did NOT want the blonde.

"The  _scary man_ is the driving the two of you home, in case you didn't notice."

"I told you that I could walk. Soli certainly didn't ask for a ride. It's not my fault that you like playing childish games with Melanie."

"Oh, so her gibes and taunts are ok but my responding to them is not?"

"Who can blame Melanie? Her partner is love with a man who's supposedly her best friend. She's marking her territory; it's human instinct."

" _What?_ "

"Marking territory. This might come as a surprise to you, but certain people  _are_ known to mate for life. And those types of people in particular tend to protect their loved ones - and their position - with fierce determination. Animals do it all the time."

"Do you  _ever_  shut up?"

 _I know how you could shut him up,_ a voice inside his head volunteered.

Justin rolled his eyes. " _You're_ the one who asked. What can I say; I guess you bring out the best in me. You see it in nature all the time; when a threat is detected -"

" _Please_ stop with the sociology lessons."

The rest of the drive to Debbie's continued in silence, with Brian trying to make a long, mental list of everything that was wrong with Justin Taylor.

Unfortunately, beyond the first three (very) compelling reasons, the list had descended into a list of un-wrongness. It went something like this:

_1\. Is a liar._

_2\. Talks too much._

_3\. Way, way too romantic. And idealistic. Way too much of both._

_4\. Has the perfect ass._

_5\. The only one who can constantly get a rise out of me._

_6\. The only person who actually stands up to me._

_7\. Kissable._

_8\. Too kissable._

_9\. Too good at kissing._

_10\. Too good at making me want to kiss him._

_11\. Fuckable._

_12\. Too fuckable._

_13\. I want to fuck him. Over and over and over and over and over again._

Brian wasn't a superstitious person by nature, but the fact that the list ended at number thirteen didn't bode well. He hadn't gotten beyond that number by the time he pulled up in front of Debbie's place.

"Thanks for dropping us."

Justin turned away to unlock the door, and Brian found, much to his dismay, that his tongue had a life of its own. "What, I don't get a good night kiss tonight?"

At least his face had the presence of mind to rearrange its features into a leer, thus salvaging his reputation.

Justin paused slightly, before turning to look at Brian expressionlessly.

"Soli, please give Brian a good night kiss. And another one as a thank you for the ride."

 

* * *

 

_**At Debbie's place around lunch time, the next day** _

 

Debbie had always been easy to pull the wool over, Brian thought with a chuckle. He was on his way back from a shoot nearby and had spilled coffee all over his shirt. Luckily, he had a spare shirt; he just needed to do a quick change. She had bought the story hook, line and sinker.

Downstairs, he could hear Cynthia chatting away with Debbie, just as instructed. Still, he paused for a second or two outside Michael's old bedroom before entering it as quietly as possible. Even with Cynthia keeping Debbie busy, Brian knew that he didn't have much time; Deb could be fooled, but not for too long. He didn't even know what he was looking for. He just needed something; some clue as to who Justin Taylor  _really_ was. What he was hiding. Where he was from.  _Something._

The room was neat and clean, and it didn't look like Justin spent too much time in there. There was a freshly folded pile of laundry sitting on the bed. On the bedside table, there were some folded newspapers; closer inspection revealed a series of articles on Stockwell that had been highlighted. Leaflets on Stockwell, presumably from Melanie were also scattered about, and Justin had underlined sentences here and there and made a few notes in the margin. Brian wanted to read what the blonde had written, but paucity of time made him replace the leaflet just as he had found it.

A few steps towards the closet, and Brian turned back. And picked up the leaflet again. Justin hadn't written any sentences; merely a couple of words here and there, possibly phrases.

The script was English. The words definitely were  _not._

Brian didn't stop to think; he whipped out his phone and copied everything he saw on the first page before replacing the leaflet for the second time.

 _Before_   _your shift is up today Sunshine, I'm going to have pegged a country for you._

Brian finally moved to the closet. Old Navy. Calvin Klein knock-offs. FCUK knock-offs. Gap knock-offs. For a guy who wore so many knock-offs, Justin certainly carried it off with style, he mused. Then again, with that ass, what  _couldn't_  he carry off?

H & M. Banana Republic. Gap, again, but the real ones this time. The originals must be what Ted had bought, Brian thought.  _There was no accounting for some people's taste._ He was about to move to the desk, considering that there was absolutely nothing worthwhile in the closet when he noticed the narrow shelf on top. Instinctively, Brian reached out to feel if there was anything there, and found a wallet.

_Why would Justin leave his wallet inside the closet and go to work?_

It was brown leather and well-worn. Kenneth Cole. No way could Justin afford such a brand...unless it was his from...from his past. Brian opened it, hoping for some kind of ID. But the wallet was curiously empty...empty, except for money. Fives, tens, twenties, fifties. Four hundred and seventy five dollars, in cash. Neatly folded, all in sequential order.

_What the fuck?_

Brian moved to the table, unable to quite process what he had just found. The wallet itself was clearly from whatever previous life Justin was running from; but where had the money come from? Had Justin saved all that money so quickly? Through Michael, Brian knew that Justin was paying Debbie rent, as well as buying a meager amount of shit for the house. Plus he had paid to get the dog all cleaned up. He couldn't have saved four hundred dollars on top of that. Was it stolen? Justin stealing money seemed almost implausible to him, though he couldn't come up with one good reason as to why. Or where the money had come from. Had it been on Justin from the first day he had walked into the diner?

Things got a whole lot stranger when Brian opened the top drawer on Michael's old desk. First, he found  _more_ money. Sixty dollars in cash, just haphazardly lying there. Gut instinct told Brian that  _this_ was Justin's savings from the diner; the money in the wallet was from somewhere else, kept apart from this for a particular reason.

_Why?_

_To plan his next getaway?_

Distractedly, he moved his hands through the drawers and then the top of the desk. Couple of pencils, markers, charcoals... _charcoals?_  He stopped at the sketch pad and flipped it open. A pretty girl with frizzy hair and laughing eyes. An old man on a park bench, a certain peacefulness about him. Brian was amazed by the drawings. There was no doubt about it; Justin was incredibly talented. He flipped over and it was a picture of Debbie. Justin must have based it off an old photograph, because it was a much younger Debbie, looking unusually sad and somber...Brian couldn't imagine when someone would have taken a photo of Debbie looking so incredibly sad. All the drawings...Justin had captured the emotions so brilliantly...it was as if the people in the sketches were speaking to him, their eyes conveying so much more than words ever could.

As much as he wanted to take his time with the drawings, Brian knew that any minute now, Debbie would start bellowing for him, if he was lucky. Brian absolutely didn't want to be caught by Debbie, snooping through Justin's things. He quickly flipped through the pages, mentally already halfway out the door.

And then he stopped.

Flipped the pages back. One. Then another. Finally to the sketch that he couldn't quite believe he was seeing.

A sketch of Ted, unconscious, in hospital. Brian, seated next to him.

The same clothes...the same hair...the same room...

Drawn by Justin. As if he had been there.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**The same evening (as Brian's discovery)**

 

He was excited. He was also scared, in a strange, exhilarating way. He was going to do this. It might work. It probably wouldn't. But he had to try. He had to do  _something._ Absentmindedly, Justin petted Soli while his eyes turned heavenwards. The summer weather meant that darkness fell later than he would have liked, but there was nothing he could do about it. At any rate, it wasn't very likely that anyone would stumble across him in this dirty, tiny alley.

"Aeolus, you don't have to do this. You just have to bide your time quietly until Loki and Hel says that you can come back...all this...it's...it's dangerous, isn't it? For you? As Justin?"

Gwenhwyfar's eyes were full of worry as she looked at him, her mouth twisting into a strange half-smile half-frown; an expression Justin had only ever seen on her. He smiled at her. She was always worrying about him; but he only had himself to blame for that, considering that he kept running to her each time he did what he wasn't supposed to.

"But if I did that, what would be the point of my having been human? I don't know what lesson Loki expects me to learn...and maybe it's a lesson I'll never learn. But as long as I'm human, I need to do what's best for humans."

Soli nuzzled against his leg, and Justin grinned at her. Soli had quickly become used to the other worldly presence and merely gave a cursory whimper in Gwenhwyfar's direction before settling herself near Justin.

"You're only a human temporarily, Aeolus. Soon you'll be with us again."

"But isn't that the test of what being a good person is? To plant trees that you yourself won't be able to enjoy the shade of, in the hopes that the next generation will? I want to be the best possible human I can be, even if I'm only going to be human for a few months."

"Oh, I know sweetheart...it's just...this Stockwell is a dangerous person."

Justin frowned. "But I'm not  _really_ human, right? I can't get actually hurt, can I?"

Gwenhwyfar's brows furrowed even deeper. "No, I suppose you can't..."

"What is it? Why are you  _this_ worried? Is there something I should know? Gwen?"

Gwenhwyfar's answer, whatever it would have been, died on her lips as she took in the new arrival.

"Ó'Cuidighthigh. I wasn't aware that Aeolus had asked for your help as well."

"Now Gwenhwyfar, there's no need to stand on formalities. I've always asked you to call me Cuidi."

Justin knew that Cuidi was disliked by everyone except Cuidi's own group, but he had been well short of people who would be willing to risk Loki's ire by helping him. Cuidi, as part of the Moirae who were responsible for determining the length of each mortal life and the means by which it would end, was technically out of Loki's reach.

Justin looked at Gwenhwyfar, pleading with his eyes for her to play nice. If Cuidi had taken less delight in his role, he would have perhaps been more likeable but right now, Justin didn't have the time to retune Cuidi's personality. Gwenhwyfar seemed to have come to the same conclusion, because she quietly nodded and refrained from making any further comments.

"So, I presume that Daphne is also part of this plan of yours, but is it just going to be the three of us? Didn't you have a helper before Loki punished you?"

With his short, dark hair and stocky build, Justin thought that Cuidi could be mistaken as a marine had he been human.

"Molley. She's eager to help as well, and since she's directly under me, she won't get into any trouble even if Loki finds out, but still, I'd like it if she had the least amount of responsibility."

"So you handle the planning and the human end of things, and it's basically Gwen, Daphne and myself? Pittsburgh is a big city Aeolus; how much ground do you expect us to cover?"

"It isn't how much ground you cover, Cuidi, it's how much attention you get. Humans don't like politics, and most of them don't want to be forced to think about unpleasantness. According to Vic, ever since the presidency of Reagan, people only want to be told good things. And I don't have any good to report. This Stockwell is a horrible, horrible human. And I don't have the means or the time to make people think; I'm going to use pure emotion and fear to drive them to the other end of the spectrum. Make Stockwell scarier than what he paints Liberty Avenue to be. Also, not covering all of Pittsburgh is a good thing. Being anti-Stockwell becomes an exclusive, select club. If the first step works, people will  _look_ for anti-Stockwell propaganda."

"We're here! I hope you guys haven't started."

Justin smiled at Daphne even as a little bundle hurled itself at him.

"Oli! I missed you! How could you even think of not including me? I'm glad you changed your mind. And  _really_ glad that Gwen didn't change it back." Molley was semi-glaring at him, and Justin could manage only a sheepish smile.

He squared his shoulders and shook his head. Time to get to work.

"Ok. I want to thank all of you for agreeing to help me with this; I know all of you can get into a lot of trouble because of me, and I truly appreciate this. Now, I have a plan for the first. We have to catch Pittsburgh's attention. It's not the quantity, it's not the size. We grab them by doing the unexpected and hold onto them by what we actually say. So. This is my plan."

 

* * *

 

_**The next evening, at Debbie's place** _

 

He had stopped by the diner, but there had been no Justin; just Debbie holding fort. Brian made a judgment call and decided to talk to Vic, who was by far the more sensible of the two. But more importantly, Michael and Emmett had both mentioned repeatedly how Vic took prodigious care of Justin, and that also prompted Brian to seek out Vic. He had planned on luring Vic out to Woody's, but had wound up in the kitchen with a beer when it came to be seen that Justin was not at home, and for some reason Vic insisted on waiting until he arrived to go anywhere.

Vic had gone to answer one of redundant phone calls people seemed to get at the most inopportune times, but Brian looked up as he walked back into the kitchen.

"So, where's Justin? He wasn't at the diner all day."

Vic paused, and seemed to contemplate his answer before speaking. "He's on his way back from Harrisburg."

"Harrisburg?" _  
_

"For me. I had some things that belonged to somebody else. And it was time to return them to him. In my batty old age, I still have feelings and people I'm not willing to confront, so Justin volunteered. So tell me, Brian. There must be a specific reason that brought you here, because you boys aren't known to speak to anyone that's a day over 30."

"We tolerate Theodore."

Vic merely raised an eyebrow in response.

"I came to talk to you about Justin."

"You want permission to court him? I could be convinced to give my consent, though I think you may require initial supervision."

Brian grimaced. "You've become rather quaint in your old age, but you mistake me for Theodore. Why is here, Vic? Deb can be fooled by any old carpet salesman, but you're supposed to be the sharper one. You must surely realize that Sunshine is not really suffering from amnesia. That he has a past which he is aware of, and is merely hiding it from us. From you."

Vic took a swig from his beer, and didn't seem to be the least perturbed by Brian's words. "So what if he is?"

Brian started. Vic  _knew?_

"You  _know?"_

"Brian. Everyone has a past. Everyone has a secret. Maybe he was abused by his parents. Maybe he was being beaten by a lover. Maybe he's running away from the death of a loved one. Maybe he's just looking for change. Maybe this is part of some strange research project he is a part of. Maybe he's an alien. If Justin is lying or hiding something about himself, it's not hurting me. Why should it concern me?"

Brian was at a loss for words. He had expected Vic to put up a fight, to argue about how Justin's story was the gospel truth...not for Vic to so matter-of-factly agree with him. And if Vic knew, then why...?

"Vic, of course it should concern you. What if Justin -"

"What if Justin is a serial killer? What if he robs us blind? What if he's a con artist? C'mon, Brian. A con artist picks a rich victim. And even Theodore wouldn't qualify for that. Perhaps you would make a good target, better still Michael's doctor. But Justin wants nothing to do with you, so that's that. He's not a serial killer; we're all still alive, aren't we? And what's here that is worthy of being robbed? If he ends up being the next Charles Manson, well then, tough shit. Someone had to be the sucker.

Does Mel and Lindsay do a police check for all of Gus' babysitters? Or do they take the word of a few references? Sometimes, you have to indulge in this thing called trust. I'm  _trusting_ Justin and giving him a chance. I'm not having my humanity defined by baseless fears and suspicions of lies that Justin might have told, in all likelihood for his own preservation."

There wasn't much Brian could say in reply to that, and he left soon afterwards. Vic knew that there was something shady going on, and he didn't care. Brian shook his head. How were you supposed to warn someone, or look out for them, if they refused to listen to words of warning? If Vic wouldn't listen, Debbie would be a lost cause.

The only thing he could do was watch from the sidelines and hope that Justin was worthy of the trust Vic was placing in him. If Vic insisted on indulging his humanity, Brian would have no choice but to stand guard. It was  _clearly_  a very good thing that the number of people he cared about could be counted on one hand with fingers to spare. This caring business was getting tedious.

By the next morning, Brian had decided not to do anything about Justin for now, and merely be watchful and cautious. It turned into a good decision to make, at least for the moment, because the morning was becoming ridiculous. Stockwell had called him thrice already; once to complain about some graffiti mocking him, the second time round spouting gibberish about pamphlets raining from the sky which demonized him and the last call had been about how the local TV stations were covering the 'schoolyard graffiti' that was 'demonizing' him.

Brian had been sure that Stockwell must have had too much to drink the night before, because none of it had made sense. Pamphlets did not just fall out of the sky; that privilege was reserved for rain, hail, snow and birdshit. As for graffiti, what the fuck was the big deal? People hated Stockwell; that was a given. Some camera crew was probably covering a homicide in the neighbourhood and Stockwell had got his panties in a twist. Brian had dismissed all three calls by the time he got into the jeep, and hadn't even bothered switching on the news.

But when a hysterical Cynthia called him minutes after he had pulled out on to the road, Brian was forced to spend more time thinking about this nonsense. Cynthia - his level-headed, always calm, cool-as-a-cucumber secretary was hysterical. A proper 250 words-a-minute, just-shut-up-and-listen-to-me-and-no-I'm-not-crazy hysterical.

"Brianohmygodareyououtsidecanyouseethiswhatthehellwhoonearthisdoingthishowoneartharetheydoingthis?"

Brian was not amused in the least. "What the fuck, Cynthia? I'm driving. What on earth are you -"

"Driving? Can'tyouseepulloverStockwellwillpopanervewhenhe -"

"Stockwell? Cynthia, calm the fuck down, I can't understand a word you're saying. The hell is going on?" That Cynthia mentioned Stockwell didn't bode well.

"Brianthereareleafletsfallingfrom - " There was a pause. "Brian. There are leaflets falling from the sky. From. The. Sky. Canyoubelieveit? Icouldn'tbelieveIwasseeingwhatIwasseeing. Leaflets. About how more black people have been arrested under Stockwell's term as Chief of Police than the previous three Police Chiefs put together. How he is - "

" _From the sky?_ You mean from the top of a building?"

"No. I mean from the sky. There are no buildings in the middle of the road, Brian."

He sighed. "From a helicopter then? A small plane? Those Cessna like things?"

"Brian, there  _is_  no helicopter here. No plane, no helicopter, no birds, no helium balloons...not even a hand glider."

"Cynthia, stop being an idiot. Nothing falls from the sky without someone dropping it. There must be something up there. Look closer." And why the fuck was nothing happening down on Tremont?

"Well, it's stopped now. And I'm telling you, there was nothing up there. I'm  _not_  an idiot, Brian. And there are three dozen people here. Are you telling me that we all missed it?"

Fuckfuckfuck. Brian felt a migraine coming on. And there was a call waiting from Michael. Just brilliant. It was incredible to believe that Cynthia would miss something so obvious as some kind of helicopter or aircraft, but apparently, that was the case.

"Who's printed the leaflet?"

"I don't know. It looks like it was typed on one of those old '80s typewriters, and there are a few illustrations and hand-drawn images and graphs. It's a photocopy. They're all photocopies. I picked up a few. People are grabbing at these like they're dollar bills. I guess everyone here knows that when something falls out of the sky, it's gonna wind up a collector's item. Stockwell will blow a fuse when he hears about this."

"Stockwell already blew his fuse. I just didn't know what the fuck he was rambling about." Brian thought of driving straight to work but the diner was within sight and he was desperate for a coffee. "Look, Cynthia, grab as many of those leaflets as you can, and if you get to the office before I do, talk to media, call every BTL agency anyone has ever heard of and find out who the fuck is behind this."

Just as he cut the line, the phone started ringing again.

"Yes Lindsay, I heard about the leaflets."

"What leaflets?"

"Isn't that what you're calling about? Never mind..what is it?"

"Did you see the drawings of Stockwell as Hitler?"

_"What?"_

"Mel said someone has spray painted graffiti of Stockwell as Hitler downtown, but I just came across a chalk drawing on the pavement...looks like your client isn't as popular as you thought, huh?" Lindsay was chuckling, but Brian was far from amused.

Call waiting. Michael again.

"Thanks for the info, Lindz. If you're feeling particularly charitable, take a picture for me. Later." Next call.

"Yes, Michael. Leaflet or the grafitti?"

"Errr...both, actually. It was like something out of a movie - leaflets just falling from the sky!" Michael sounded as excited as a 10 year old. "Brian, who's behind this? And how did they pull it off? There was something like this in Captain Astro, but that was all documents about an illegal ammo factory that he busted. And of course, Captain Astro can fly. Did you know that Stockwell is planning to cut bus routes in our neighbourhoods? How the fuck are we supposed to travel? Just because we're gay, we're no longer good enough for public transport now? If Stockwell gets elected, you better give me the jeep before going to New York. I'm not walking everywhere just because you elect a fucking homophobe. I'm  _definitely_  not voting for this prick."

"And I'll see you at the diner then."

Had everyone in Pittsburgh witnessed this seemingly miraculous event except him? Head already throbbing, Brian walked into the diner.

"Just a coffee Brian, or would you like a sandwich as well? Or a muffin instead? You should try a muffin - they're fresh."

Brian tried his hardest to give a nonchalant look at Justin. The blonde looked as if he hadn't slept a wink last night. He was smilingly brightly and by all accounts seemed genuinely cheerful, but the dark circles under his eyes were apparent to the keen eye. He must have gotten back in from Harrisburg really late, Brian thought.

"Just a coffee. Regular."

Justin laughed. "It's too early to be a grouch. Even for you. And the weather is gorgeous! Have a muffin and enjoy it while I get your coffee. Chocolate muffin? Naaah, you're not the chocolate type. Here, try the blueberry."

Brian watched in mild amazement as the normally prickly Justin grinned, placing a blueberry muffin in front of him before turning to get the coffee.

"It's a muffin, Brian. Stop staring at the damn thing and eat it."

"And top of the morning to you, Deb. What crawled up your ass this morning?"

Debbie plonked herself next to Brian, and pointed at the TV with a straw that she had twisted beyond its capacity. Brian looked at the TV, which was tuned to a local news channel. He watched as the news anchor, an attractive woman probably in her late twenties, spoke to some people near the Steels Building. The camera then focused on a leaflet that the anchor was holding, and Brian could make out the resemblance to the leaflet that Cynthia had described earlier. Any hope of actually listening to the news was dashed by Debbie's voice, which was loud enough for the drycleaners next door to have heard.

"How come the whole city experienced it except me? No one hates Stockwell more than I do. Fucking graveyard shift. At least Michael said he picked up an extra leaflet for me. I serve everyone in this diner every goddamn day and no one thought that maybe poor Debbie would like a leaflet for herself." To emphasize her point, Debbie glared at every one within a ten feet radius.

"Jeez, Deb, it's just a leaflet, not fucking gold ingots."

"Besides Sis, how was anyone supposed to know that you'll miss it?"

Brian turned at Vic's voice and saw him seated at a booth with Emmett.

"Deb, I'd give you mine, but it's the only one I have." Emmett was trying hard to look regretful and contrite, but going by Debbie's expression, he wasn't very successful.

"Debbie, Michael said he picked one up for you. And if he hasn't, don't worry, I'm sure that we can find one for you somewhere. Brian, here's your coffee. Why haven't you eaten your muffin? Are you upset that you missed out on the leaflets as well?"

"How do you know I missed out on it?"

"Oh. Uh...the news didn't say that there was a drop on Tremont so, I assumed...that's real blueberries, you know? Not the frozen kind. It's delicious. You'll love it. It's almost as good as the lemon squares. It's -"

"Enough! I'll eat the damn muffin. Jesus, Sunshine, you're a terrible salesman." Brian took a bite out of the muffin, and had to grudgingly admit that it  _was_ good. And as hard as he tried, it was impossible not to smile back at Justin when the blonde was beaming at him.

"I  _told_ you it was good."

He just sat there, smiling back like an idiot. It was wrong for a smile to feel so right.

"How was Harrisburg?"

Justin shook his head lightly. "Harrisburg was a bit confusing to find my way around, but other than that it was ok. I prefer Pittsburgh."

And then Justin leaned across the counter, whispering into Brian's ear, warm breath on his neck making him almost miss Justin's words. "It's okay to just laugh sometimes about the silly stuff. Or to smile without a reason. I promise I won't tell anyone and you look much better when you do that."

Whoever or whatever Debbie was scolding now went unheard by Brian, as his eyes followed Justin, who had walked over to Vic.

_Control, Kinney, control. He's just another blonde twink._

"Ma! Ma, what are you doing, just sitting there?" Given that Michael was practically screaming at the entrance, he had the attention of almost everyone in the diner, not just Debbie. Even Brian was drawn away from his internal denials.

Michael stared at all of them in exasperation. "Stop staring at me and get your asses outside before the rain of leaflets stops! C'mon!"

Debbie and Emmett squealed in unison before they followed Michael outside, along with other curious patrons of the diner. Determined to prove Cynthia wrong, Brian also strode towards the entrance, when it suddenly struck him that there were two people in the diner who had expressed no interest in sharing in the experience.

Brian turned around and looked back into the diner to see an exuberant Justin and an equally delighted Vic grinning at each other, oblivious to the commotion outside.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

_Nothing. Absofuckinglutely nothing._

Brian swiveled in his chair slowly, his frustration simmering.  _Someone_ had to be behind those leaflets and pavement drawings. He stared at the leaflet. Something about it was bothering him and Brian couldn't put his finger on it. There was something almost familiar about it, but for the life of him, Brian couldn't figure out who or what or when he had seen something similar. He compared it to the glossy photos he had got of the pavement drawings. Brian was pretty sure that he knew the artist who had done the work, but he was simply unable to place him.

This whole fiasco was all over the news, and no one had stepped forward to take the credit. With practically the whole of Vanguard working on it, they still couldn't figure out who was behind it. And that was serious cause for concern. A stunt like that was a media coup; who  _wouldn't_  want credit for it? Was there something bigger in store?

Brian twirled his pen, staring off into space. The worst of it was that all the facts were true, and it did a great job of painting Stockwell not only as a homophobe but as an overall racist. This was all he needed. To be outshined by some upstart agency on the one campaign that was his ticket out of Pittsburgh. Stockwell had been breathing down his neck all day, and it had taken all Brian's skill and cool veneer to calm the man down. He had insisted that it was just one stunt and the less they reacted to it, the sooner everyone would forget it.

But Brian knew better. No one put in that kind of time, money and effort into a project for it to be just a one-off incident. There was going to be more. He just  _knew_  it.

"No luck?"

Brian turned towards the door when he heard the voice.

"Cynthia told me I could come in." Michael walked past the chair and seated himself on the edge of the small sofa.

"What, no hot date with the doctor?"

"Don't be an asshole. I came to see how you were doing. It was all over the news. Ma was saying that -"

"I live in the same fucking city Michael; I  _know_ it was all over the news." Brian couldn't help taking his frustration out on Michael. It wasn't as if Michael ever took offence, so he figured that it made no difference anyway. Wasn't that what best friends were for?

"Will you stop snapping at me? I'm not the one who showered the city with propaganda."

"You give them too much credit. There were lots of areas they didn't manage to cover." He couldn't keep the edge out of his voice, betraying how he really felt about the whole issue. Brian tossed the map the media department had given him towards Michael. The shorter man caught it, but didn't bother looking at it.

"Brian, it's just a campaign. It's just a client. Who cares? Why let it get to you?"

"It's  _not_ just a client, Mikey. It's my ticket out of here. And some fucker out there is making this a lot more difficult than it should be."

"You're serious."

"Well, I doubt that anyone would spend this much time and effort and money to not follow through with something more."

Michael sighed. "New York. You're serious about New York."

"Well of  _course_ I'm serious about New York. That city was made for me Mikey, and here I am, wasting my life in the Pitts."

"Your friends are here. Your family is here. Your -"

"They're  _your_ friends and  _your_ family _._ I just tag along for the ride."

" _I'm_  your friend."

Brian was about to snap at Michael when he saw the genuine fear in the other man's eyes. So he instead walked over to where Michael was seated, crouching in front of the sofa.

"Listen to me Michael. Are you listening?" Michael was doing precious little else. "I love you. You know that. Whether I'm here or in New York, it'll always be the two of us. Now come on, fuck this shit. Let's go to Woody's and get drunk."

Michael, whose mood seemed to improve as Brian was speaking, frowned. "I kinda told David that I'd meet him later..."

Brian grimaced. "Well, the doctor can meet us at Woody's then."

 

* * *

 

**Woody's**

 

After all the excitement of the morning and his secret plan having created exactly the effect Justin had wanted, he thought he had earned a little bit of time to relax. After his shift at the diner, Justin had stopped at Boy Toy to distribute some of the leaflets Melanie had given before coming to Woody's. Maybe it was his looks, maybe it was the location or perhaps (and Justin hoped that this was the case) due to the events of the morning, he found the clientele at Boy Toy far more open to engage with him and listen to what he had to say. He distributed the last of them at Woody's, and after having managed to rope the bartender into volunteering with him for the Stop Stockwell campaign, Justin joined Ted, who was with Emmett.

Probably due to Ted's presence and his working with Melanie, Emmett was far friendlier than normal. The company got decidedly more curious when Dr. David Cameron joined them. He was apparently supposed to meet Michael at Woody's. The doctor was early; Michael had called to say that he would be getting late. David saw Justin, recognized him and decided to get to know Michael's 'friend' better. Justin was thankful that Michael's  _real_  friends - Ted and Emmett - were also there, because otherwise the conversation would have gotten very weird, very fast.

"That's not the point. Everything we do, the bars we go to, the clothes we wear, even the beer we drink is a conscious, or worse yet, unconscious attempt to get laid." Ted took a sip from his beer.

Emmett looked at his drink suspiciously before speaking. "Yes, it's true. There  _is_  an overemphasis on sex. But considering how much fun it is, why not just go with it?"

"Because, tragically, some of us may want something more from life."

"Something more fun than sex?" Emmett looked aghast. David burst out laughing.

"I'm just...I just want to be happy. Sex is temporary. Happiness, once one achieves it, is forever. C'mon Em, even you're going to pass 30 one of these days; what are you going to do then? If I can break this cycle of superficiality, I should at least be on track to finding happiness."

"I think you're going about it wrong, Ted." Justin had remained mostly quiet, so when he spoke, he had everyone's attention. And Justin was much too engrossed in the conversation to notice the arrival of Brian and Michael.

"You won't find happiness as long as you think of happiness as some sort of goal or destination that you have to reach. When it's a destination, you need something to get you there. A new car or a new job or a new person. You'll find that one thing or person one day and that's going to fix everything. That's what's going to make you happy one day. But happiness is a mood...it's a condition, not a goal. It's just like being sleepy or tired or hungry. It's not permanent. It comes and goes. And there's nothing wrong with that. If people thought of it that way, I think they'd find happiness more often. They'd be  _happier_  more often."

"Aw, Sunshine's holding court again. You  _would_ know a thing or two about happiness, wouldn't you? What do you have to say about secrets? I wanna hear that one." Brian looked around the table. "Oh, fuck me, you must be Michael's new beau."

Justin looked at Brian's glazed eyes. Michael didn't look much better. He sensed the mood at the table shift, and decided that this wasn't the evening to bait Brian. So Justin didn't respond. David did.

"You must be Brian. I've heard a lot about you."

"And I've heard a lot about you too. Sixteen right, eleven left."

"Excuse me?"

Justin was glad that he wasn't the only one who couldn't understand what Brian meant.

A rather uncomfortable looking Emmett cut in. "Nothing, just an old joke. Brian, you're tweaked, what are you on?"

"Oh, E, K, GHB. Most of the letters on Sesame Street."

"Sesame Street? Is that around here? Or is it some shop?" Justin had never seen Sesame Street in any of his walks, and he figured that a street that apparently sold drugs (presumably illegal) would be ideal hunting ground for his anti-Stockwell work. It wouldn't hurt him at all to learn a thing or two from Brian.

Instead, the entire table stared at him. Rather, the entire table minus Ted. Ted, for his part, laughed and patted Justin on his back.

"You have the strangest sense of humour. And the best straight face ever."

"Must be a European thing."

"Huh?" Michael frowned at Brian before he kissed David ever so lightly. "Sorry I'm late. We got a bit -"

"Carried awaaaaay," Brian supplied.

Michael giggled. "You're gonna get dehydrated. I'm gonna get us some water."

"And I'm going to get the rest of us more beer." Emmett linked his arm through Michael as they walked away to the bar. Justin wondered if Emmett was just being himself, or whether that was a means of making sure that Michael remained upright. Michael managing to get the water all by himself seemed highly unlikely.

"Well, you've got him well-trained."

When Brian turned to David, there wasn't much trace of whatever drug he had consumed. "Well, he takes care of me, and I take care of him. So, doc...do you fuck all of your patients?"

"Brian!" Ted chided, but Brian didn't so much as look Ted's way.

"Well, if you're referring to Michael, I released him from my care, before we went out together." There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before David cleared his throat. "What about you? What do you do?"

"Advertising."

"Well, you must know a thing or two about screwing people yourself."

"Yeah, I could do it in my sleep."

"I bet you could."

"You know, Dave, what's weird about you meeting Mikey? It's that we usually meet guys together."

Justin and Ted could merely watch, rubbernecking at the crash that was inevitable.

"And they usually end up with you."

"The lucky ones."

Ted snorted.

"Debatable." David's look could have cut a diamond.

Ted coughed, and started speaking. "You mentioned that you hadn't been here for a while, David. Is it the same as you remember it?"

David glanced slightly at Brian before replying. "Even the guys look the same."

"Why'd you stop?"

Brian visibly stifled a yawn at Ted's question.

"It wasn't for me. And I met someone."

The second yawn, perfectly timed at the answer, wasn't stifled.

"Oh, that's nice." Ted was genuinely smiling, but Justin felt a small ball of lead in his stomach starting to grow.

David seemed oblivious to both Brian and Justin. "Yeah, Steven and I were together almost six years."

"Wow. So, who left who?"

"No one. He -"

"He died," Justin finished the sentence for David. He remembered the car crash. Daphne had been in charge of Steven, and Justin had had the driver of the other vehicle; an Emily Rogers.

"Yes, he did...how did you...?"

"Your expression...I'm...I'm so sorry."

"Nobody's fault."

Justin felt nauseous.

"So what'd we miss?" Emmett and Michael placed beer and water on the table.

"Nothing special," David answered.

Michael seemed oblivious to the somber mood, but Emmett's perceptive eyes questioned Ted's. He didn't receive an answer.

 

* * *

 

It was turning into a morbid evening. The tension between David and Brian was growing exponentially, and Michael's complete lack of acknowledgment of that fact and his constant pandering to Brian just made everything worse. The whole situation was annoying even as an objective bystander, but Justin was more attuned to David's feelings than anyone else was, given his dislike of Brian and his new-found sense of guilt. Apparently, David would have been a happy man, far away from Liberty Avenue and Michael, had Justin and Daphne not been so efficient at carrying out their duties.

For about the 250th time that evening, Justin was tempted to ask Brian to sleep with Michael so that everyone could get on with their lives. It boggled his mind as to how the two men had carried on like this for 15 years. Granted, there seemed to be zero sexual tension between them, but still.

Emmett had insisted on moving the group to Babylon. Justin should have used that opportunity to head back home, but Ted had insisted that he remain. Now, peering at the mass of writhing bodies, Justin wished that he hadn't given in so easily. He had left the men at the bar on the pretext of going to the bathroom, and instead of heading back to join them, found himself standing under the metal staircase, watching the dance floor.

Dancing looked fun. All the men looked like they were  _having_  fun. Justin wanted to go join them, to be part of it. But he was afraid. He was alone and didn't belong. He might have come to Babylon with a group of people, but they were all Ted's friends, not Justin's. They wouldn't help Justin fit in or indulge him while he tried something new. Emmett had abandoned the group to dance, and Justin contemplated joining him.

But...no. As friendly as Emmett had been, he wasn't foolish enough to mistake being  _friendly_  with being  _friends_. Two different things. It was very unlikely that Emmett would be up to babysitting him. Ted looked even more out of place at Babylon than even Justin felt, but unlike Justin, Ted seemed to actually revel in feeling like a fish out of water. Michael, David and Brian were all out of the question. Justin sighed. It was at times like these that he wished he had friends other than Soli.

"Go join them."

The voice, though not whispering, was at his ear and Justin started.

"Brian. What...I don't...you..."

"You've been staring at the dance floor for the last ten minutes oh-so-wistfully, as if it was the setting sun. You want to dance, go dance."

"I...I was just watching them. It's interesting to watch people. I don't...I don't want to dance." So busy was Justin in formulating his denial that it didn't occur to him to ask what Brian was doing there standing with him under the stairs, instead of at the bar harassing David or getting blown in the backroom.

Brian smirked. "Liar."

Justin sighed, and then rolled his eyes. "Fine, maybe I want to dance. But I'm just as happy to stand here and watch other people dance."

"I thought you weren't allowed to be a grouch when the weather was gorgeous."

"I'm surprised you remember what was said in passing hours ago, given the amount of chemicals inside you. Besides which, it's too late to enjoy the weather. And I don't really want to dance. I just like watching others do it. And I'm not being a grouch."

"Sure you're not."

Justin looked back at the dance floor instead of replying.  _If only Daphne was here, if she was human, if -_

"Are you afraid to go out there, or were you too busy learning Latin to learn how to shake a leg?"

" _What?_ "

"C'mon Sunshine, live a little."

Justin would have ignored Brian's drawl, but there was no way to ignore the sudden yet firm grasp around his wrist, and there was absolutely no way to resist as Brian Kinney dragged him to join the men on the dance floor.

 

* * *

 

Dancing, for Justin, was enchanting. The colours, the music, the movements...it was the most fun he had had as a human. He hadn't drunk anything apart from a couple of beers at Woody's, but he felt absolutely intoxicated, dancing with Brian. He laughed for no reason at all, and his eyes weren't merely twinkling; they were practically flashing. And the sheer exuberance Justin was feeling reflected onto Brian, who was unconsciously smiling.

It didn't take Justin long to realize that Brian Kinney was not a particularly good dancer. So he let his movements be guided by the music he felt inside of him, after looking for direction from the myriad of other men that were dancing around him. He completely lost track of how much time had passed, or how many songs he had danced to.

"Having fun?"

Justin didn't answer, but his arms were raised and he laughed, and it was a good enough answer for Brian. Brian wasn't awkward; he danced very lightly, not moving very much in any direction, giving the impression that he was dancing only as much as he wanted to. Justin was enjoying not just dancing; but dancing with Brian. Brian was very strong and very male and doing nothing at all to make Justin feel that he was being dominated, but yet, he was being dominated completely. And Justin found that he liked it. They moved together easily, arms and legs occasionally brushing against each other and it felt fun and safe and dangerous all at the same time.

A new song came on and the beat changed; a slower, more sensuous rhythm masked by words that made little sense, sung in a voice too electronic to be real. Justin didn't hear the singing; he just heard the beat and saw the swaying of the bodies around him. He  _did_  notice the ground beneath him shift slightly as Brian put his arms around Justin's waist, drawing him closer.

Justin kept dancing to his own beat and Brian kept swaying to his own rhythm. But Justin felt himself moving slowly into a different dimension, where it was just himself, Brian and the music. He could smell the other man - a mixture of alcohol and aftershave and the fundamental smell of a man who seemed part panther, part cowboy. He knew that he should pull away. He wanted to pull away. And simultaneously, he  _didn't_  want to pull away. He kept dancing, while Brian's arms drew him closer and closer. Their legs were brushing against each other now, pelvises and stomachs touching. Justin didn't know when his own arms found themselves twining around Brian's neck, or how long the two of them moved together like that, not as two distinct bodies but as one unit, swaying to a beat only the two of them could hear. The laughter had stopped, and the smiles were replaced by looks neither of them were quite willing to acknowledge. He wanted to look away, but once Brian had caught his eye, it was impossible to. They moved in unison, unable to look anywhere but into the eyes of the other.

Justin was pressed against Brian's chest, and he could feel the muscles underneath the flimsy shirt Brian was wearing. He wondered if Brian could feel his heart beat. Justin was certain that he could hear it.

This was all wrong. It  _should_ be all wrong. And yet, it didn't feel like that. A dim voice at the back of his head kept screaming at him to stop, to think, to move away, but the rest of his body was refusing to cooperate. Brian felt so  _good_  to him. Justin wanted this to go on forever. The moving, the non-moving, the touching and yet the non-touching. Slowly, steadily, he was being turned into something, being led towards a place that Justin had never known existed.

Justin didn't know when they gave up the pretense of dancing. He was falling into Brian; mesmerized by words that were not being said. When Brian moved into kiss him, Justin gave himself to it willingly, memories of another kiss forgotten over everything else he was feeling. Something was stirring inside of him. Inside both of them. Justin didn't even know if they had stopped moving altogether. All he could feel was Brian kiss him, and he was kissing Brian back, soft and strong at the same time, being overwhelmed by alien feelings within himself. Brian pulled away slowly, moving back in to kiss the corner of Justin's lips, arching him back gently, and Justin, completely malleable in Brian's arms, let him. Brian moved his lips lower onto Justin's neck, tilting him further, and Justin's eyes fluttered, taking in the kaleidoscope of colours above him; a fairly accurate representation of what he was feeling at that exact moment. Brian's tongue was swirling and -

"Brian, what the fuck are you doing? You're in the middle of the goddamn dance floor, and with  _him?_  Are you planning on fucking him while everyone watches? How high  _are_  you?"

The spell was broken, but it took Justin a few moments to reorient himself. To his credit, Brian didn't drop him like a sack of potatoes at Michael's voice, but he did pull back. And as Brian pulled back, Justin felt his own arms disentangle themselves, and for the first time in the evening, felt the heat radiating off of his own body.

"We got high together Mikey; you should know how high I am."

His throat felt painfully dry, and Justin swallowed. Brian had stepped away from Justin and was looking at Michael. The loss of contact made him feel almost naked. Brian had let him go completely. Justin didn't wait to watch the other man's expression or hear what he had to say. He didn't have to. He took several backward steps, and the crowd on the dance floor obliged him by swallowing him amongst their midst in a matter of seconds. Justin spun around and raced out of Babylon.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Brian's loft, the following evening**

 

_Justin Taylor, what am I going to do with you?_

Brian didn't at all appreciate how quickly his life had spun out of control. He had been unable to get Justin off his mind the entire day. He still wasn't sure if he should be thanking Michael for stopping him on time the previous night, or whether he should be cursing Michael. As it were, he had merely dismissed Michael and by that time, Justin had disappeared.

What on earth was the matter with him? It was one thing to want to sleep with the blonde; it was something else entirely to have called Vic to make sure Justin had made it back in one piece. At least he could trust Vic to keep his opinions to himself and mouth shut.

Brian shook his head. Granted, Justin was hot, but there was no dearth of hot men in Pittsburgh. Ugh, what was wrong with him? Justin Taylor was arrogant, argumentative, had more secrets than the CIA  _and_ had a superiority complex rivaled only by Brian's own. He cursed himself for not being able to let go of the twat.

He had expected the morning at the diner to be awkward and was fully ready to be eating chicken instead of turkey. Instead, Justin had been his usual self, if somewhat distant. Or was that cold?

_Not that it mattered. Not at all._

Brian looked at his watch, wondering if he really wanted to bother with either Woody's or Babylon. He certainly had enough work to keep him occupied and frankly, wasn't in the mood for either places. Stockwell had been just barely tolerable, and Brian couldn't blame the man. The one question he wanted answered went begging. At least the day had passed without further incident, but Brian knew that there would be some other shenanigan waiting for him round the corner. He  _had_ to outwit his opponent. He had lined up interviews for Stockwell, and some charitable photo-ops in the up-coming days. Hopefully, that would mitigate the damage done by those infernal leaflets falling from heaven knew where. Maybe he could -

The buzzing of his cell phone disturbed him, and Brian cursed under his breath. When he saw the caller ID, he cursed even more.

"And to what do I owe this pleasure, Claire?"

"Thank god you answered. I thought you just might ignore me and then I would be -"

"Claire. What do you want." It wasn't a question so much as it was a statement.

"Brian, you have to go to Morgantown. As soon as you can. You have to -"

Brian scoffed, interrupting Claire. "Let's get something straight. I don't  _have_ to do anything. Why the fuck would I go to Morgantown, anyway? It's all the way in fucking West Virginia."

"Peter ran away. He fought with John and...I'm not sure exactly what happened but he packed a bag, left a note and ran away."

"To West Virginia." Brian wondered when his family would stop competing with reality shows on MTV.

"I don't know exactly where he thought he was going to go, but he just called from the Greyhound Terminal in Morgantown. He's out of money. Brian, please, you need to go pick him up before some pedophile or those sex trafficking rings kidnaps him. I saw on TV that they -"

"Or the police. It  _did_  occur to you that the police might pick up a ten year old - or is it eleven? Twelve? - year old wandering alone at a bus terminal, yes?"

"Er...well, of course I did Brian. I was just saying..."

Brian had walked over to the fridge at this point, and was examining its contents. Should he order Thai or Chinese? Claire was still rambling.

"Of course you were, Claire. I fail to see why I should be the one driving out of state because you're unable to keep your brood in check. Call a cab. Take a bus. Drive there. I really don't give a shit. Or let the kid spend the night at the bus halt. He might learn something."

" _Brian!_ "

"What? Claire, seriously, you're wasting my time with this bullshit."

"I can't go."

"Why the fuck not?"

"Because mom got arrested. The cops just called me. I have to drop John of at the sitter's and go bail her out."

There was no way this story was going to end well. Brian leaned against the kitchen counter, beer in hand. "Dare I ask what happened?"

"She got pulled over...she had been drinking..."

"Fantastic. This just gets better and better. Here's an idea. Let mom sleep it off in jail, you go fetch Peter like the awesome mother that you are and I can get on with my evening as planned."

"Think again, Brian. Mom will never babysit for me  _ever_ again if I leave her to spend the entire night in jail. I'm not you; plucking money out of trees and living in swanky apartments with high-flying jobs. I  _have_ to bail her out. So you have to go get Peter."

"What about dad?"

It was Claire's turn to scoff. "You're kidding, right? He's off getting drunk in some bar as we speak. Fat lot of good he'd be."

On that, Brian had to concur. "Listen, Claire, do whatever the fuck you have to do. Leave me out of it."

"Oh no you don't. You don't get to wrangle out of everything and leave me to deal with the mess. Either you go pick up Peter, or I'll give the police your name and number to call when mom starts reciting the bible in jail while I have to drive out to get Peter."

Brian pictured the police station, crawling with Stockwell's cronies, especially in the evening after arresting prostitutes and fags and anyone and everyone except the real criminals. The last thing he wanted was his name bandied about, making its way back to Stockwell so that he could get fired from the campaign for not only being unable to get to the bottom of the rival campaign but for having raving lunatics for family.

_Fuck._

 

* * *

 

**Greyhound Terminal, Morgantown , West Virginia**

 

"What are you doing here?"

Brian stared at the shaggy haired blonde, who was clutching a huge canvas knapsack almost as tall as himself. If Brian wasn't mistaken, it looked like an old camping bag from at least 15 years ago. His voice has clearly startled Justin out of his reverie and his mouthed formed a small 'O' as he looked to find Brian towering over him.

Brian had found Peter in next to no time, and was about to haul the kid into the jeep when the usual wailing about wanting to go to the bathroom had started. He had gone to quickly buy a pack of smokes when the unmistakable sight of Justin had caught his eye. He kept one eye on the entrance to the bathroom, and looked Justin, who was still silent.

"Cat got your tongue?"

"I'm waiting for the bus back to get back to Pittsburgh."

"You're at a Greyhound terminal. I figured as much. What are you doing here in Morgantown?"

Brian didn't know what went through Justin's mind, but it was fairly obvious that he contemplated several different lies before he answered.

"I'd rather not discuss that with you." When Justin couldn't hold Brian's intense gaze any longer, he chose to study the tip of his sneakers instead.

"What's in the bag? Dead body?"

"It's just...stuff."

Brian sighed. It was going to be a long drive back. He noticed Peter finally step outside. "Peter!" Brian motioned for the kid to join them. "I hope you washed your hands."

Peter jutted out his lower lip. "Who's he?"

"A friend. Justin, meet my runaway nephew, Peter." Brian wondered how best to ask Justin to accompany them without having the blonde undermine his authority in front of Peter. Not only was the most juvenile part of him actually getting excited at the thought of having Justin tag along with them, but the most practical part of him was relieved. An openly gay man travelling alone with a minor of dubious character was never a particular good idea, and in this political climate, it made the combination doubly dangerous. Brian grimaced. Maybe Melanie and Debbie and the rest of them had a point when they said that Stockwell's antics would eventually catch up with Brian.

"Hi Peter, I'm Justin. Nice to meet you." Justin actually held his hand out to Peter, who shook it reluctantly, mumbling. "Did I hear Brian right? Are you running away from home?"

"Was. He  _was_ running away from home. Until he ran out of money."

Bleeding heart that he was, Justin was crouching in front of Peter now, and Brian shook his head in exasperation.

"You're so young...why would you run away from home? From your family?"

Peter snorted. "Oh, please. It isn't like they wanted me anyway. John told me. He heard mom telling Dave's mom that I was an accident and that she never wanted me. Not like they'd miss me if I was gone."

Brian rolled his eyes. "You're not the first kid who was an accident and you certainly won't be the last. Get over yourself."

Justin shot him a withering look. "You know Peter, I knew someone who ran away from home."

That perked the interest of not just Peter but also Brian.  _This ought to be interesting._

"Really? Why'd he runaway? Did his mom not want him either?"

"His dad would beat him and his mom after getting drunk. He decided that he just had to get away from that."

Brian kept his face impassive while Justin spoke, but his mind was working overtime. Did Justin really know someone who had run away? It was far more likely that 'I knew someone' was simply a euphemism for this-happened-to-me-but-I-don't-want-to-admit-it. Peter was asking all the questions, and Brian listened intently to the answers, all the while maintaining an expression of intense boredom.

"Where did he go? What did he do?"

"He didn't have any money so he ended up having to have sex with people for money, just so that he could eat."

"Eeeew! That's gross! Ugh. Yuck. So what happened to him?"

"He was living on the streets and at sixteen, he tried to kill himself by slitting his wrists."

The blonde looked somber, but his eyes were full of feeling. Brian was certain that he was speaking about himself. It certainly would explain a hell of a lot. There were a million and one questions that he wanted to ask Justin, but he restrained himself. It was almost impossible to believe that this pugnacious blonde would have at some point been so depressed and hopeless that he would try to kill himself, but apparently that was the case. And Brian knew that lots of people ended up selling their bodies to make ends meet, but it was difficult to imagine that Justin, who had been able to wrangle not only a job but also a place to live by a single trip to the diner would have had to stoop to that level.

Peter was transfixed by Justin's story. "And then? What happened to him? Did he die?"

"No, he lived. It was almost curtains for him, but he survived. I think he realized then how close he came to losing everything. Anyway. I'm just saying that running away isn't always the best option. Maybe next time you could talk to your mom about what you heard before you run away. I'd hate to see you end up like my friend."

Eyes as wide as saucers, Peter nodded.

"If today's episode of Oprah is over, could we get in the jeep and get the fuck out of here?"

Justin stood up. "Well, it was nice meeting you Peter. I hope you won't pull a stunt like this again, okay?"

"Sunshine, there's time enough for good byes later. You didn't think I'd leave you here to take the bus on your own, did you?"  _Don't pick a fight with me now. Don't. Don't think about last night, don't think that -_

Justin looked from Brian to Peter and then back to Brian. "Well, I haven't bought my ticket yet, so..."

"So come on then." Brian instinctively reached out to take Justin's knapsack, but the blonde quickly stepped in between.

"That's okay, I've got it."

_Curiouser and curiouser. What the fuck was inside that bag?_

"That thing is almost as big as you. Hand it over, Sunshine."

"You may be bigger than me, but that doesn't mean I can't carry things, you know? Besides, it isn't heavy." Justin clutched the bag as if his life depended on it, and Brian resigned himself to letting Justin be all weird about it.

The three of them walked back to the jeep in silence, and Justin carefully placed the knapsack in the back. He spent a good five minutes retrieving a sketch book, and Brian was surprised that he managed it in a mere five minutes, considering that he kept the bag practically closed the entire time. At long last, Justin was done and he settled into the passenger's seat beside Brian.

"So, are you still a fag?"

In the time Brian took to roll his eyes, Justin had not only tsk tsked and managed to look like an affronted church-goer, but he also managed to stomp on the moral high ground that Brian was beginning to think was Justin's default setting.

"Peter, that was extremely rude."

Look like an affronted church-goer? Brian thought Justin sounded like one as well. He smirked. Peter was in for a long ride.

"What? It's true."

"Whether something is true or not doesn't mean you have to be rude and derogatory about it."

"But it's  _true._ I don't get it. If he doesn't like it, he can just choose not to be a fag." Peter insisted mutinously.

"So, Peter, are you still poor?"

" _Hey!_ That's mean!"

"What? It's  _true_ , isn't it?" Justin countered smugly. Brian, for his part, grinned.

Justin turned sideways, so that he was looking at Peter from the gap between the two seats in front. Brian glanced at him, watching the seat belt straining against Justin's chest and storm clouds gathering across his face.

"True or not, it's derogatory, the way you asked it. And it's insulting, to suggest that being gay is something you can switch on and off like a light switch. Even if it was, it isn't your business whether your uncle chooses to be a fag or not. And how about we stick to gay instead of fag?"

"Now Sunshine, that was below the belt. Well played."

He was rewarded by a beaming smile from the blonde, and Brian momentarily felt the danger of a long drive back and the inability to concentrate on the road ahead.

There were a few moments of silence before Peter started speaking once more. Between his two nephews, Brian had always preferred Peter to John, but that didn't mean he liked Peter.

"So, Justin, are you, like, Uncle Brian's boyfriend, or, like whatever, like fa- uh...gays have?"

Brian burst out laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the question, while Justin rolled his eyes.

"Why on earth would you think that I was his boyfriend?"

"He calls you Sunshine. Isn't that like a term of enderment or something? For like boyfriends or girlfriends or whatever?"

" _Endearment._ " Brian corrected. "Besides, I don't  _do_  boyfriends. And it's a nickname, not a 'term of endearment', as you so eloquently put it."

Brian could see Peter frowning in the mirror.

"Isn't 'Jus' like, a better nickname for a guy called Justin?"

"Isn't, like, shutting the fuck up a better thing for a pesky little runaway to do, instead of asking a million redundant questions?"

That successfully did shut Peter up. For a whole five minutes. Until Justin decided to engage Peter in conversation. Brian glared at Justin, but only received an angelic smile in return, which could only mean that Justin was being anything but. Brian was initially annoyed with Justin. He had just got the twerp to shut up and Justin had to go ruin it. Justin asked Peter about school, and what sports he played and his friends and hobbies and generally things that Brian considered too boring to waste his breath on, but Justin seemed enthralled. He was asking Peter questions and quietly sketching at the same time, and if not for the sharp questions, Brian would've thought that the blonde was playing with Peter.

After a while though, Brian was impressed. Justin had an astounding amount of empathy in him, and somehow seemed to draw out the better (if that was even possible) side of Peter. Despite being the one who was subject to the interrogation, Peter still managed to ask a million and one questions, most of them stupid ones (in Brian's opinion), but at least there was no more insolence from the kid. Brian smirked to himself; guess being called poor really hit home.

"Brian?"

"What?"

"What do you mean ' _what'_? What do you think he should do?" Justin shook his head and looked at Brian expectantly.

Of course, Brian had no clue what he was supposed to say. He had tuned out of the conversation when Justin professed ignorance as to what the _Simpsons_ were and Peter had gleefully started to explain.

"You weren't even listening, were you, Uncle Brian?" The twerp had the audacity to sound hurt.

Brian opened his mouth to dish out a biting remark, but was shocked into silence when he felt Justin place his hand on Brian's arm, squeezing it lightly.

"Well, Uncle Brian has to drive, and he has to concentrate on that, not on us talking. Peter was saying how this Tim bullies him, stealing his lunch and pouring glue inside his locker and -"

"-and he told Denise Masters that I wet my bed till I was eight! That's like such a total lie!"

Brian gave Justin one stupefied stare before he turned his eyes back onto the road. "And I'm supposed to help how?"

"Vic said you looked out for Michael all throughout school. You're the expert."

The hand still remained on his arm and it was impossible for Brian to be mean to Justin with the continuous contact.

"Isn't John elder to you? Get him to give this Tom -"

"Tim."

"Whoever. Tim...Tom...whoeverthefuck. One sound thrashing from John and he'll leave you alone."

"What would you do, Justin? You must have been, like, bullied when you were in school, right? I mean, you know, like, they always bully the fa- the gay kids."

"I...uh...I'm sick...I don't exactly remember being in school, so...I don't know if I was ever bullied."

"What do you mean, you don't remember?"

"He has amnesia, apparently."

"Amnesia? Like in  _General Hosptial?_ Wow, that's so cool! I want amnesia!"

"Sunshine, stop talking, and get  _him_  to stop talking. In fact, get him to go the fuck to sleep before my head explodes from hearing all these inanities."

Justin grinned. "You know, I'd really like to see what's inside your head..."

" _Justin..._ "

"All right, all right!" But the blonde had the nerve to giggle.  _Giggle._

The incessant chatter finally ceased however, and along with Peter, Justin also fell asleep, sketch pad rolling off his lap onto the floor.

 

* * *

 

Justin heard light music. He couldn't help the yawn from escaping, even before he opened his eyes. He was still in the jeep. Brian was still driving. But there was no Peter.

"I...what happened to Peter?"

"He's been reunited with his dearly beloved mother. You were out cold and I didn't see the need to wake you up for the reunion scene. You didn't miss much, trust me. Peter seems to have taken a liking to you though."

Justin managed to stifle his next yawn. "He's not a bad kid, Brian. Just badly brought up, with all the wrong values. If you spoke to him, engaged with him, you can get him on the right track before it's too late."

"I'm not his father; why should  _I_  bother?"

Snippets of conversation by Debbie and Vic about Brian's family came surfaced inside his brain.

"Because...because...an educated, questioning public is what we as a community should encourage. Because he's your family, like it or not, and he is in all likelihood salvageable. I daresay you must have had as much sass when you were his age." Justin paused, wondering what the best strategy was to get Brian to do something. Direct requests and appealing to his (seemingly nonexistent) conscience wouldn't do it. Bribery, corruption or trickery would have to do.

"Fine, then. Don't look out for your own family. A mother who didn't want him and a brother that seems like a basket case is probably the best place for him, anyway. Punishing the children for the sins of their parents is a wonderful precept to live by, I hear."

A sigh and glare were not the only replies Justin got.

"Sunshine, if you think that you can manipulate me into -"

"Oh no no no no. I wouldn't dream of manipulating. Especially you. I don't think that would even be possible," Justin said, with an impish smile. "That's why I figured that I would talk to Peter myself. Maybe invite him over for lunch on Saturday. I'm certain Deb wouldn't mind; you know she loves having guests, and she'd be delighted to take your nephew under her wing. I'm sure of it."

"You  _wouldn't_."

"Naturally, I'd ask Deb first."

"It's not as if the kid will agree, you know."

"Of course. It would be a chance, much like everything else...but he's a kid. A nice meal, the promise of ice cream...the ability to teach and then beat someone at those games he said he liked playing...a lot to tempt him with, wouldn't you say? Anyway, we'll see." He couldn't stop grinning when he saw the expression on Brian's face. He knew that there had to be  _some_  way of outsmarting Brian.

"If this is about what happened to you..."

"Huh?"  _What was Brian talking about?_

"That story you told Peter. That wasn't someone you knew, it was you."

_Oh crap._ A red light forced a pause in the journey, and Justin had to look away under the force of Brian's look.

"Brian, it really  _really_ wasn't about me."

Justin remembered the boy. Jason Kemp. He had been after Vic, but before Ted. Justin had just managed to get past the censure because of Vic when he was given Jason's case. At sixteen, Jason had been tragic. Selling his body to men, women and everyone in between so that he could afford to eat, he was everything a sixteen year old shouldn't be, and had been through everything a boy that age had no business being a part of. At fourteen, Jason had run away from home, escaping an abusive, alcoholic father and leaving behind a helpless, ineffectual mother. Money had run out sooner than later, and what Jason thought of as a temporary solution to his lack of funds had soon turned into his only means of survival.

Justin's heart had broken when it was time to take Jason. It wasn't fair that someone so young, so innocent and full of hope had to suffer so much, through no fault of his own. Jason had done nothing wrong, and he was being punished at every turn. An entire childhood full of misery and abuse, and the best time of his life being spent selling his soul to stay alive.  _It just wasn't fair and it just wasn't right._

The task had been painful as it was gruesome. Jason Kemp had slit his wrists, full of despair and wanting a final out from his achingly hard life. Justin had had to wait, and take him.

He couldn't do it. He didn't have the heart to end such a youthful, positive life in such a hopeless manner. Jason Kemp deserved another chance. He deserved a chance to make something of himself, to rise above what life had dished out to him. So when Justin had sensed the presence of a good samaritan that was Jason's chance to be taken to a hospital and given the help that he needed, he had sent Jason back without a second thought.

Immediately afterwards, fearful of the repercussions from Loki, Justin had gone to Gwenhwyfar and had told her what he had done. She had promised to take care of the matter by speaking to Loki, and Justin had never been punished for it. Of course, Loki had spoken to him at length about the nature of his duty and the essential role he had to play in the lives of mortals, but true punishment had been spared.

Until Ted. And Brian. Because Justin knew now that he never would have spared Ted had he not been so moved by the pain he thought Brian had been feeling. And Brian  _had_ been feeling pain, hadn't he? This cold, calculating persona was just an act, right? Shouldn't Brian have left him to fend for himself at the bus halt, if he really was a heartless prick, instead of taking Justin back home? Or teaching him to dance when he could have had anyone else?

_That dance._ Justin closed his eyes, fiercely willing away the thoughts.  _Don't_ go there.

_Justin, you're a fool for wanting him, and for trying to make him something he's not just so you can feel good about wanting him. You'll never be anything but -_

Justin jumped in his seat when he felt Brian touch his face.

"Justin? Are you ok? You didn't hear a word I said, did you?"

Was that concern in Brian's eyes, or was the darkness inside the jeep and his exhausted physical state playing tricks on him?

"I'm sorry...I'm fine...just hungry and exhausted. I completely zoned out there. But...uh...yeah...no...that story...it wasn't about me. Truly."

"Mmmm hmmm."

Brian looked thoughtful, but it was impossible to read what he was thinking. Justin knew of the conversation Brian had had with Vic. The amnesia story was a ruse and Brian knew it. But Justin would play along with it, since Brian wasn't questioning him directly. Yet.

"I can see you're exhausted. What were you doing in Morgantown, anyway?" Again, the deceptively casual tone that Brian did so well.

Telling Brian that he traveled out of state for the express purpose of photocopying dozens of anti-Stockwell propaganda material incognito wasn't an option. Justin contemplated informing Brian that it was none of his business, and then decided that would be particularly rude, especially considering that Brian was being peculiarly nice. He considered lying, but that somehow seemed like an even ruder thing to do.

"Just...I...er, I had to run some errands...for...Vic." If he really stretched the truth, he could make it fit.

"Like Harrisburg?"

Brian's tone was noncommittal, but Justin was certain that was deceptive. He also wasn't sure what Vic had said, but the best plan of action seemed to be to play along and change the subject as soon as possible. "Exactly. Um...where are we going? As in, where are you dropping me?"

"Aren't you going to Deb's?"

"Yeah, I am, but I need to feed Soli...I haven't seen her all day and she probably hasn't had -"

"Vic and Peter and your anonymous friend and the mongrel dog...stop doing shit for everyone else and do something for yourself for a change."

Justin glanced at Brian before looking ahead at the road. "It isn't for Peter, you know. I mean, not really. It's for you. I mean...despite...whatever...you know, between us...that...whatever. I think of you as a friend. In some manner, you know. And...and I think you'd appreciate having family that you didn't have to be ashamed of, even if that particular family member is twenty years younger to you. So. Yeah. It's for you."

They traveled in silence for the rest of the journey.

 

* * *

 

Justin sat on the arm of the sofa, sipping a beer, while Vic sorted out papers from a box. Brian sat across them, nursing his own beer.

Without needing to be told, Brian had driven Justin up to the alley where he usually met with Soli. The total lack of food inside the jeep meant that Soli got driven to Deb's (that she was allowed inside the jeep shocked Justin to no end). Debbie was working the graveyard shift, so Justin had been able to offer Soli a proper meal without getting into trouble, while Vic had reheated dinner enough for the entire US army just to feed Brian and himself.

"What  _are_  all these?" Justin peered over Vic's shoulder.

"Yes. What are those monstrosities? It looks like a drag queen threw up inside that box. During Christmas."

Justin giggled at the image Brian was conjuring up. Vic merely raised his eyebrows before speaking.

"These are the old clippings and decorations from the diner. Debbie had stored them in the attic, but I think it's time to clean them out. Extra space never hurt anyone."

Justin smiled to himself. The extra space was to store all the leaflets and posters and related paraphernalia. Vic was being so supportive and helpful.

"In which case you should probably burn the whole lot of it."

Brian stood up as he spoke, stretching. Justin looked away studiously, memorizing the contents of the box.  _Must. Not. Look._

It seemed that Brian had decided to be as difficult as possible, because he came and stood mere inches away from Justin, peering into the box.

"What's got you so fascinated, Sunshine? It's all just tinsel and menus, you know."

The knowing smile on Brian's face made Justin look away once more, this time double quick.  _Damn that man._

"Sis sure is a hoarder, no doubt about it. Look at this, the Absolute Abs winner. I remember; first contest I went to watch at Woody's after getting out of the hospital." Vic handed some papers to Brian, but the smile and the thanks in his eyes were reserved for Justin. Justin smiled back, and gently squeezed Vic's shoulder.

"Fucked him even before he won." For some reason, Brian passed the leaflet to Justin as he kept up the commentary, going through the papers Vic had handed him. Personally, Justin thought that Michael looked better than the guy. Even Ted. Perhaps even Kiki.

"Proudest Dick. Made him come in under five minutes."

The guy looked boring. Brian either had poor taste or no taste, Justin determined.

"Mr. Cheekiest Cheeks. One of the lousiest blow jobs I ever got."

Justin rolled his eyes as he got that one.

"What the fuck is this? Oh yeah, Deb's find of the century. She sure has that touch."

Justin froze in shock when Brian passed him the next piece of paper, which was a newspaper cutting. He felt his blood run cold.

"What...what is..."

_It couldn't be. It just couldn't._

"Dumpster Boy. Deb found him in the dumpster behind the diner. Dead as a door nail. Thus the name."

Brian's blasé tone changed immediately with the sound of Justin's beer bottle meeting the floor.

"What the... _Justin?"_

"Justin, are you okay?"

_No. No. No. No. No. No._

"Yeah...I...yeah...just...it slipped...the bottle, I mean. The bottle slipped"

Vic gave him a questioning look, and Justin could only nod at him blindly.

"Just wait here okay? I'm going to bring something to clean this up." Vic walked towards the kitchen, but Justin hardly registered his exit.

Jason Kemp. Dumpster Boy. Dead.

_He had saved Jason. He was sure of it. So why was Jason gone? How? It wasn't possible...it wasn't...it wasn't right...or fair...dead as a door nail..._

He felt a touch on his shoulder, and Justin slowly looked into Brian's worried eyes.

"Justin, are you..."

"I was wrong."

"What?"

"When I told Peter he survived. I was wrong. Tell Peter that I was wrong."

Leaving a shocked Brian behind him, Justin walked up the stairs wearily, trying his best to block out the whole world.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**The following morning**

 

Justin breathed deeply. It had been a long, tiresome day, made worse by the fact that he hadn't got a wink of sleep the night before. Finding out that Jason Kemp had died had knocked the wind out of him. He had been so shocked, in fact, that he hadn't even been capable of any kind of discretion when he had told Brian that he had been wrong. At least both Brian and Vic understood when a person just wanted to be left alone, and neither had disturbed him for the rest of the evening.

Not that being left alone had helped much. Justin had been utterly confused by how Jason Kemp had died, in spite of being saved, and worse still, he was terrified that the same fate might befall Vic and Ted. He felt whatever good he done as Aeolis was for nothing, and he was hardly doing anything of value as Justin. What was the point of saving someone if they were going to end up dead anyway?

By the time morning had come around, Justin had a throbbing migraine that a trip to Debbie's medicine cabinet just barely took care of. And then he went and made everything worse by showing the newspaper clipping to Debbie and asking her about it. What she told him only made his blood curdle. Jason was undoubtedly killed, while he worked as a hustler and the police, under Stockwell's stalwart leadership, hadn't even been able to find out his name. That Debbie had done on her own, together with Lindsay's help.

He got to the diner early, and ended up seeing Jason Kemp everywhere. Every smiling, happy customer was what Jason could have been today. Every sad, grouchy or angry customer was Jason Kemp on a good day. Killed while hustling. Had Justin let Jason die without saving him, he would have probably saved Jason a few additional days of needless suffering. He felt sick to his stomach thinking about it.

Brian came in for breakfast, and things simply went from bad to worse from then on.

"Someone looks like they didn't manage any sleep at all." Brian's seeming nonchalance simply irked Justin more.

"Coffee? Sandwich? Muffin? Cereal? I'll get you a coffee and a bagel." Justin decided Brian's order for him, without giving the taller man even a chance to respond.

Finally, Brian got to the point. "Are you okay? I mean, after Dumpster Boy..."

"Jason Kemp. That was his name."

Brian cocked his head to a side, the slightly widened eyes being the only sign of confusion.

"He was a hustler. Someone killed him, and dumped his body into the dumpster out back."

"I know. Deb found out -"

"Exactly.  _Deb_ found out. Why in the world should Debbie have had to find out anything? Doesn't this city have a police department? What were  _they_  doing? Playing marbles?"

"He was a hustler, Justin.  _Any_ one could have killed him...someone protecting his turf, a disgruntled customer, some psychopath...and he was a fag. The cops have a long and proud history of not acknowledging the existence of fags."

"But it's their job!" Justin's voice was so loud that other customers stopped to stare. In his peripheral vision, he could see Vic placing an arm on a concerned Ted.

Brian kept his voice neutral. "I realize that...that this Jason was your friend -"

"It couldn't have been that hard to find out if a waitress from a diner and an art teacher managed to find out Jason's name, can it? If that man you pay such obeisance to - Stockwell - wasn't such a homophobic prick, his staff would have made more effort to get to the bottom of what happened to Jason Kemp. He  _was_ the police chief then, wasn't he?"

"Dragging Stockwell into this murder is a bit of a stretch, don't you think? As I was saying, I realize that this Jason was your friend but you need to keep this in perspective. Why don't you ask Deb for the morning off so you can get some rest?"

Justin's breaking point had effectively been reached. With jerky gestures, he took off his apron, balling it with his hands.

"No. I don't need to keep anything in perspective. What I _need_  to do is find out what happened to Jason. So you have yourself a fabulous day, trying to delude more people into voting for that blowhard. What I need to do is give respect back to the life Jason had and dignity to his death. What I _need_  to do is the job your incompetent, bigoted jerk of a client couldn't do." The apron landed on the counter as he spun on his heels to leave.

"Justin, where the hell do you think you're going?"

"I'm going to go find out who killed Jason. Tell Debbie I had to go."

 

* * *

 

**Later in the evening, at the diner**

 

Brian still hadn't figured out the connection between Justin and Jason Kemp, when the evening had found him at Woody's with the rest of the gang. A trip to Babylon and several tours to the backroom put that subject to the back of his mind, but when by some quirk they all decided to swing by the diner for coffee, Brian found his mind wandering again. Justin's seemingly WASP-y upbringing and clearly private school education didn't quite gel with the idea of him shacking up with a hustler. Unless...unless Jason and Justin had perhaps been friends before Jason ran away? Poor and middle class families didn't have a monopoly on abusive alcoholic fathers. Justin Taylor was a fake name; Jason Kemp was not.

_Find Jason Kemp's story and we'll have Sunshine's._

Why he cared so much about who or where Justin came from was inexplicable. But the blonde had chosen to lie instead of tell them all a sob story - a sob story that was increasingly seemingto be true.  _Why?_  There seemed to be a complete disconnect between Justin's seemingly morally upright views and ideas and this entire façade he was maintaining about his past. Brian did not care for liars. True; it wasn't a lie if they made you say it, but that was more about coming out of the closet than anything else. Brian tuned back into the conversation at the table.

"Tomorrow is going to royally suck. At work, I mean. Ugh." Michael made a mild retching noise, but was drowned out by Emmett.

"Kiki, do you have club soda? I don't want this to stain!" Emmett was dabbing furiously at an invisible spot on his shirt. Scratch that, this was Emmett. It was an invisible spot on his blouse.

"Well, I've got some tax reports to go over tomorrow, so I know why my day will be...just like every other day. Is it Half Day Wednesdays at the Big Q?" Ted lightly tapped Michael on the shoulder, indicating that he was responding to Michael's earlier statement.

"We're restocking."

"Aaaw, poor baby, spending the entire evening alone in that dreary crap emporium."

"Tracy'll be there."

Ted frowned. "Who's Tracy? How come I missed this nugget of information? Do tell!"

Brian scoffed. "Tracy is Mikey's bride-to-be."

"She's not my bride-to-be."

"Sure she is," Emmett countered casually. "Aren't you taking her to Bob's party?"

"So  _who_ is Tracy and who the fuck is Bob? When did Michael get friends none of us have met? Wait, is Bob the bouncer from Meat Hook?"

Brian chuckled at the look on Ted's face.

"Oh honey, I think that's who Michael  _wishes_ Bob is."

Michael frowned at Emmett before answering Ted. "Tracy's this girl at the Big Q. She sorta has this crush on me...and...and, well, you know what they're like at work. They're all straight and...anyway, so I'm also in line for this promotion at work, and Bob - he's the manager that's leaving - it's gonna be his decision at the end. And there's this party for Bob, and he invited me, and he told me to 'bring my lady'. So I asked Tracy. I mean, what choice did I have?"

"Thus confirming the general consensus that Tracy is Mikey's own wee little bride-to-be. I bet she's already got the chinaware picked out."

"Shut up, asshole."

"Bring your lady? Do straight people actually talk like that?" Ted looked at Michael with horror on his face, but it was Emmett who replied.

"I guess they do. Especially the redneck ones. Glorious Pennsylvania. Pittsburgh and Philadelphia, separated by Alabama."

The whole table cracked up that.

"They're not that bad!" Michael protested, still giggling.

"And does the good doctor know that you've got him under lock and key in the closet, while you traipse around the Big Q with Traceeeeee?" Brian stretched her name out on purpose, and watched Michael start frowning again.

"He's not happy. He says that there's never a good reason for deceit, or for the hurt you cause and I should tell the truth."

"For once, I actually agree with Doctor Dave. That's why you should tell Tracy who you really are."

Michael just shook his head.

"I agree. I always say, come clean or don't come at all."

"I can't. They laugh at faggots."

"The only faggots worth laughing at are the ones that don't tell the truth. Don't be one of those assholes who hides, Mikey. And stop leading her on."

"Who's leading her on? We're counting cartons of toilet paper."

"Yeah, which you can use because you're so full of shit."

"Why are you always picking on someone?"

Everyone turned in surprise at Debbie's voice.

"Really, Deb. Auditioning for Haunted Mansion, are we? Because you've got that sneaking up on people with the scary voice and crazy hair down pretty perfect."

"Well, some haunting would do you a world of good, if you ask me. You're picking on Michael now - don't deny it - and you were arguing with Justin this morning."

"Sunshine and I had a difference of opinion, Deb. Nothing you need to get your panties in a twist over."

Debbie rolled her eyes. "Well, he wasn't himself this morning, and he's still out on his midnight walk. Normally, I'd just tell you to fuck him and get it over with. This long drawn out charade of constant bickering usually means just one thing, you know. But it's Sunshine we're talking about, so better the bickering than the fucking, I say."

"Why Deb, I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have your unwarranted opinion to dismiss every so often." Brian slapped a twenty onto the table. "Theodore, I trust you'll drop these fairies home."

Emmett rolled his eyes as Michael bristled, but Brian took no notice of either as he walked out towards his jeep. Debbie had annoyed him even more than Michael's antics had. Well,  _of course_ he knew that fucking Justin into the mattress would take care of a lot of pressing problems. But that seemed like a very difficult prospect to turn into reality at the moment. Speaking of difficult prospects, Brian wondered if Justin was serious about finding out who killed Jason Kemp. It seemed very unlikely that he would make much headway. But that didn't mean Brian couldn't do some digging of his own on Kemp; see where that led him to. There had to be  _something_ that linked Kemp to Justin.

Brian looked in surprise at the visitor near his jeep. Soli sat there, and as she saw Brian, she stood up, tail wagging.

"I don't have food for you and I certainly don't have Sunshine with me."

The tail continued to wag.

Brian shook his head and started to fish out his keys, and then he paused. He crouched down in front of Soli and rubbed her behind her ears.

"You're really a mongrel of a dog, aren't you? And so ridiculously happy and friendly, just like your master." Soli licked Brian's face in response. "I know he's fed you; it's certainly late enough. So what do you say we take a walk, Soli? Hmmmm? Cmon, do your sniffing thing and go find Sunshine."

 

* * *

 

_**Initial conversation takes place in Latin** _

 

Finding out who the killer was evidently took longer than Justin had expected. As soon as he had left the diner, Justin sent a message to Gwenhwyfar, but she had been busy until the evening. By the time he had returned to the diner to wait until the evening, Brian had been gone.

Now, Justin stood leaning against a wall, his knapsack full of anti-Stockwell posters at his feet. Daphne, Molly and Cuidi had each taken a set of posters to put up, and Justin would have been done with his share of it, if he hadn't been otherwise preoccupied interrogating Gwenhwyfar, who was twisting her fingers back and forth nervously, frown lines marring her forehead.

"Aeolis, Jason Kemp doesn't matter anymore. That's in the past; you have to concentrate on making it through your time on earth and convincing Loki that you have learnt your lesson."

"Jason Kemp will  _always_ matter. I saved him. You  _know_ I did. I  _told_  you what I did. I came to you as soon as I saved him. But he's dead nevertheless. I want to know what happened. Please. Gwen. I deserve to know. Is the same thing going to happen to Vic? And Ted?" Justin briefly closed his eyes, refusing to let the fear overtake him. "Was it Loki? Did he -"

"Oh sweetheart, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Justin felt his face draining colour. "Gwen...you...what...?"

"Oh, Aeolis, I was just trying to help. I didn't want you getting into any trouble."

"What did you  _do?"_

"I...I went to Loki as soon as you told me. I...was just trying to save you from getting into trouble with Loki and Hel for not doing your duty. After Victor Grassi, it would have been the last straw; they would have surely punished you like they did now and I had to do  _something_. I told Loki that you were having trouble and wanted a small extension on Jason Kemp...I begged him, and he said ok...and at the next scheduled time... _I'm_  the one who took him."

Justin stared at her in opened mouthed horror.

"Gwenhwyfar! How  _could_ you? Jason...he...I..."

Tears glistened in Gwenhwyfar's eyes as she reached out to touch him. "I'm so sorry...I just...I just wanted to protect you...I didn't want you in any trouble...I just wanted to help..."

"I wanted him to live, Gwen! It was never about me, it was always about them! About Vic and Debbie and Ted and Brian. About Jason. I faced the punishment now and I would have faced it then. It was about giving them another chance; about making their lives better." Unbidden, tears were gathering inside his own eyes, and as Justin continued to speak, they slowly made their way down his face. "I would have faced the consequences. I would have  _gladly_ faced the consequences...Jason...he survived suicide to be killed and thrown into a dumpster! Gwen, how awful is that? For Jason...how terribly, terribly awful and frightening and cruel it must have all been..."

"Aeolis, I'm so sorry...I..."

"Don't. Just...don't." Justin opened his mouth, and then had to pause to try and think. A million different thoughts were milling about in his head, and he wasn't able to think straight at all. "I...you...just...how? I want to know how. I want to know who did this to him."

Gwenhwyfar visibly blanched. "Let it go, Aeolis. What's done is done."

"No. I owe Jason. For putting him through that unnecessary suffering and pain and cruelty. I owe him. He's not going to be a nameless paper clipping at the bottom of some box. Whoever killed him has to be brought to justice for it. I owe Jason that much."

"It's too dangerous, Aeolis. It's too risky...you can't afford to -"

"Gwen, I  _owe_ him!" Justin tried to control his voice and his emotions, but he was unsuccessful in all respects. " _We_ owe him," he added pointedly. "You were there, Gwen. You  _have_ to know who it was."

"It was..." There was a sigh, and a deep pause before Gwenhwyfar continued. "It was a police officer."

Very little could have surprised Justin more that evening, but Gwenhwyfar's words managed to shock him stock still for almost a minute.

"Are you sure? Gwen...who...?" He stared at her, his earlier blind anger towards her being brushed aside by the horror of this new piece of information.

Gwenhwyfar was looking past him. "There's someone here. I must go."

"What?" Justin looked around in confusion, but was adamant to hear more from Gwenhwyfar before she disappeared. "Wait! Don't go! I need to know who it was!" in desperation, he stepped forward, trying to grab onto her, futile though it was.

"Rikert. An officer called Rikert," Gwenhwyfar was whispering, even though no mortal could hear her unless she chose it. "I have to go, someone is -"

"Justin?"

Justin spun around to find Brian standing behind him, and when he quickly turned around again, there was no sign of Gwenhwyfar.

"What the fuck is this?"

Justin's run of bad luck seemed to be on overdrive that night. Brian was staring at the knapsack lying on the ground, posters peeking out from the top of it. As if he needed further proof, Stockwell-as-Hitler stared at them ominously from the wall. In one swift move, Brian pulled out a poster from the knapsack, moving too fast for an exhausted and shell-shocked Justin to react.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing with this?"

Brian's voice was deadly, and Justin felt like he was trapped in quicksand. There was no way he could leave. Likewise, there was nothing that he could say. His mind was completely blank. Brian was a lot of things, but an idiot was not one of them. A knapsack full of posters, half the wall covered with Stockwell's face; it was patently obvious what Justin was doing. The rhetorical question couldn't be answered, and there was nothing that Justin could say short of admitting the truth. On top of that, there was the minor problem of a murderous policeman called Rikert prowling about, which wasn't going to solve itself.

Justin licked his lips in nervous anticipation, unsure of what Brian would say, but certain that it wouldn't be pleasant.  _When in doubt, do nothing._

Brian had pulled out one poster from the knapsack. "I should have fucking known that you'd be involved in something like this. Is this what Melanie is doing? This is all her brilliant idea?"

At that, Justin was compelled to say something. "Melanie has nothing to do with this. She has no clue...this is just...it's just me." There was no way he was dragging Melanie into this mess; she truly knew nothing about it.

Brian scoffed. "Don't insult my intelligence Sunshine. This is all just you? Bullshit. If not Mel, then who? Who's behind all this?" Brian paused to think, and Justin furtively tried to think how he was going to talk his way out of this. Queening out with Brian saying that it was none of his business seemed the route least likely to see this matter dropped successfully.

"This is what Morgantown was about, wasn't it? You went there to pick up these posters from someone. Same with Harrisburg. Vic. Of course he's part of this, but he isn't really it, is he? Someone had to have organized those leaflets, and it sure as hell weren't either of you, seeing as how you were enamored with your muffins."

"Brian...you can keep guessing all you want but I'm not going to tell you." He met Brian's steely glare with one of his own and snatched the poster out of the other man's hand. "Lots of people don't like Stockwell or his bigotry and will do anything to see him lose. That really shouldn't come as a surprise to you."

"What surprises me is that a person - or is it an organization - that can spend enough money to shower the city with leaflets needs to get a busboy to put up posters surreptitiously in the dead of the night. They're not paying you for this shit, are they?"

Justin shrugged. The bizarreness of the situation he found himself was unbelievable. "That's why it's called volunteer work, Brian. Everyone  _volunteers._ Both their time  _and_  money."

"So you just happened to find a Latin speaking radical to latch on to, did you?"

_What the...? How did Brian...?_

"I don't know what you're -"

"Cut the bullshit, Justin. I heard you rambling just now, with whomever the fuck that disappeared just before I came. I'm not Debbie. You can look pretty all you want; doesn't mean I'm going to buy the tripe you try and feed me."

Brian had obviously heard him speaking with Gwenhwyfar. But since Gwenhwyfar had never allowed Brian to see or hear her, he would have only heard Justin's end of the conversation. How Brian had figured out that it was Latin, Justin was clueless to, but at least Brian obviously didn't understand the language, or this conversation would be taking a very different route. Which didn't make this any easier a conversation to have, and Justin had absolutely nothing remotely sensible to say.

"Why the fuck are you doing this?"

"Why would  _anyone_ do this? Stockwell is a homophobe and a bigot and he is a threat to everything that your - my - our community stands for."

"You and your morally superior -"

"Morally superior or not, it's the truth. Oh, wait. What do you care? You're going to be painting the town red all the way in New York, right?"

"Oh forgive me Princess, for actually wanting to move ahead in life, for wanting bigger and better things. If the rest of you fags had a grain of ambition in you, you wouldn't be sitting around blaming me for all that's wrong with the world and pulling other people down. You'd have a candidate of your own to back. Stop blaming everyone else's inefficiencies on me. What the fuck do you think you're doing, anyway? Sneaking around at all odd hours of the night, getting caught up with heaven knows what kind of people just because you don't like Stockwell? Do you have any inkling of dangerous this could be?"

Justin glared at Brian. "You'll sacrifice your friends, your community...your  _people_ just so that you can move three rungs higher in your career? You  _know_ Stockwell is a bigot; you're too smart not to. And yet the problem here is  _my_ working to bring him down?"

Brian stepped closer to Justin before he hissed out his answer, and Justin could see the tension in his jaw. He was almost afraid that Brian would hit him.

"The  _problem_ here is that you are a goddamn liar. You come and worm your way into our lives, lying to everyone at every turn. You don't have amnesia; you know, I know it, Vic knows it; anyone capable of an iota of thought would know it. Who are you working for? You babbling in Latin to your dog was merely weird; doing that with whomever you were just talking to...well now, that just proves my point, doesn't it?"

"My language skills are not -"

"Your language skills are just the tip of your shitload of lies, that's what they are. I don't know who you are or what you came here to do - wait, scratch that, I have a pretty good idea of exactly what you came here to do. A lie is a lie, and deception is deception. And there's never a good reason for deceit or the resulting hurt you're going to end up causing."

Justin was getting angrier by the passing second. How dare Brian sit in judgment upon him? He was happy to think the worst of Justin and pontificate without thinking for a second that his own actions were not much better than Justin's supposed lies. My lies haven't hurt anyone unlike his supreme selfishness, Justin thought.

"Oh for heaven's sake Brian. You don't know anything. You just jump to all kinds of wild conclusions without knowing a damn thing -"

"I know you're a fucking liar, here with your own private agenda and using any and everyone around you. You stay the fuck away from Gus. You stay away from Lindsay, from Mel, from -"

Justin laughed a short, harsh laugh. "Oh,  _now_ you're playing dutiful dad? Now you're protector of the innocent, knight in shining armor?  _Now_ you're concerned for everyone, even Mel? What a joke. Where the hell was this chivalry when you were cracking campaign ideas for Stockwell? My lies haven't hurt a single person here and you want me to stay away from Gus? Pity your neurons couldn't make the same leaps of logic when you thought making Stockwell mayor wouldn't hurt anyone. A homophobic bigot with power wouldn't be a threat at  _all_  to a pair of lesbians trying to raise  _your_ son now, would he? I dare you to tell Mel and Lindz why you want me to stay away. Your supreme selfishness in wanting to make it to your precious New York could cost Lindsay and Mel and Gus everything, and you dare insinuate that  _I'm_ the danger?"

"Oh Sunshine, who's insinuating anything? I'm stating it outright. You're the one getting weak kneed at the sight of dead hustlers; for all I know, it could be your fault he ended up face down in a dumpster. Better still, you're the one who probably killed him."

Justin's palm made contact with Brian's face with the speed of light; something neither man had expected. He was so angry that his whole body was shaking, and he could feel hot tears stinging the back of his eyes. The guilt he had been feeling all day over Jason Kemp finally found an outlet. Brian had said absolutely the wrong thing at absolutely the wrong time. Fortunately for Justin, Brian managed to stand his ground despite the physical assault, and was too surprised to retaliate. Justin's voice managed to stay steady, but just barely.

"Go to hell. I hope Stockwell loses and I hope he fires you for it. Actually, I almost wish that he'd win just to see you go to New York and leave everyone here in peace. You're going to  _hate_ it in New York. No one is going to care about who you are or what you can do because there are five hundred other men like you already there. You'll just be another past-his-prime-wannabe with no friends and no family and not even fawning sycophants at nightclubs to stroke your epically proportioned ego. New York or Pittsburgh or Timbuktu, you're so selfish and cold that you'll always go to bed alone, even if there are thirty three tricks in there with you. And very soon, you'll be wishing that  _you_ were the one lying face down in the dumpster."

 

They stood there, glaring at each other, neither one moving. Justin felt a tear trickle down, but was too angry to care enough to wipe it away. A soft whimpering forced Justin to look away from Brian, as Soli stood at his feet, looking at Justin quizzically.

When Justin looked back up, he was faced with Brian's retreating figure.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Early evening, in the alley behind the diner**

 

"So this Brian Kinney...why do you even care? If you hit him, he probably deserved it." Cuidi had crossed his arms, and was looking at Justin with a strange expression. "And Aeolus, how come you're pouring your newly-acquired soul to me instead of Daphne?"

Justin rolled his eyes. "We  _always_ had souls. In fact, that's  _all_ we had. As for Daphne...I guess I'm ashamed of myself. I slapped someone, Cuidi. That's just not right, deserved or not. Daphne would be so disappointed in me.  _I'm_ disappointed in me." He was crouching on the ground, and Soli had practically climbed on to his lap. Justin rubbed behind her ears absently. Cuidi had turned up unexpectedly during Justin's break, so instead of updating Daphne on the latest happenings, Justin had ended up speaking to Cuidi.

"Right. So that naturally would make  _me_ the go-to guy."

Justin shrugged. As one who did the bidding of the Moirae, Cuidi was part of the group that was responsible for determining the length of a mortal life, and the means by which that mortal life would come to an end. That made them less likely to judge Justin, but they also made for infuriating conversationalists. Cuidi in particular seemed bereft of emotion, human or otherwise, except for his own sense of morality. For the millionth time, Justin wondered how on earth he managed to get along with Cuidi.

"I'm no better than this Rikert if I let my temper have a life of its own. There's no doubt in my mind that Brian deserved it; he's an idiot at the best of times. My point is that I should have been able to restrain myself."

Perhaps that statement wasn't wholly accurate; Brian was not an idiot under any circumstances. But Justin didn't care much for accuracy at this point. Just thinking about their run-in the previous night got his blood boiling all over again. How  _dare_  Brian?

"So you think Kinney was wrong?"

"Yes. I mean, he's clearly way off base when it comes to a vast variety of things, Stockwell and helping that campaign in particular. I don't know how he justifies anything to himself." Every time he began to think that there was something good in Brian, the man would do something unbelievably infuriating. As much as he regretted last night, Justin was in some way secretly glad that it had happened.

"Hmmm...what did he tell you this morning?"

"Nothing. He didn't come to the diner at all."

Cuidi shrugged. "Don't worry about it. You weren't wrong; you just lost control for a bit. Anyway, those Kinneys are a nasty bunch. If he didn't deserve the slap last night, doesn't mean he didn't deserve it in the bigger scheme of things."

Justin narrowed his eyes. " _Those_ Kinneys? What do you mean, 'those' Kinneys? What do you know about them? And more importantly,  _why_ do you know about them?"

Cuidi was in command of a stellar poker face and right at this moment, his face was practically opaque.

"You have your duties - which you were peculiarly bad at - and I have mine. And I come across all kinds of strange people."

"I don't care about all the strange people you come across, Cuidi! I care about whatever Kinney you've come across. It wasn't...it  _isn't_  Brian, is it?" Justin felt his blood run cold.

A pair of raised eyebrows and the face they belonged to, looked at Justin sardonically. "You're mighty concerned about this Brian, aren't you?"

" _Is_  it Brian?" That familiar feeling of dread had enveloped him, but it was stronger than anything he had ever felt before. Justin couldn't  _believe_ this. How could they be coming to take Brian? For all his bitching about Brian just now, Justin for a moment didn't think that Brian deserved to die. This simply wasn't fair! Justin thought about Peter, and Michael and Brian and David. Brian wasn't ready to die; he hadn't made peace with his family, he hadn't faced up to himself, he hadn't even been together with Michael, who was presumably the love of his life. All Brian really was was a very confused, very hard talking person. He deserved a chance to unravel his life.

"Oh for Pete's sake! The look on your face is priceless. Will you calm down? I know a Kinney is being looked into; I just don't know which one. I doubt it's your Brian."

"Meaning that it  _could_  be Brian?" Meaning that very soon, it could be Brian in the hospital, and someone else the person cursing over his limp body. Brian had been terrified when Ted was dying, and was undoubtedly not ready to die himself. Justin, for one, wasn't ready to watch Brian die.  _No no no no no._

"Meaning that I don't know, but I doubt it. Aeolis, I shouldn't have to tell you this, but there's a time for everything and everyone. Tell your friend to make the most of what he has. And  _you_ should wonder why Brian Kinney is this important to you."

Justin felt himself growing defensive. "Brian is -"

"Exactly like you," Cuidi supplied. "The respective causes the both of you pick notwithstanding, you're two of a kind. The same ego, the same bull-headed stubbornness...and my time for loitering around is done. As I said earlier, it would simply make it easier for all of us if you'd just ask Gwenhwyfar about Rikert, but I'll try and find out what I can for you."

And with that, Cuidi was gone.

The more Justin thought about it, the angrier he felt himself getting. At Loki, at Hel, at the Moirae...at all the powers who had suddenly deemed that it was Brian's turn. Brian couldn't die. He  _shouldn't_ die.

Justin could no longer even find it in himself to blame Brian for what had happened. Brian  _was_  kind of justified in getting mad at me, he thought. I'm lying to everyone, and he knows it. If I were in his shoes, I'd probably be as pissed as hell too, Justin figured. He certainly didn't deserve to be hit for pointing out the obvious. It isn't as if I can explain why I'm lying to him and how would any normal person react to someone who lies to every single person around him?

Justin was feeling so incredibly frustrated and angry. He didn't even have any powers; how was he to stop this? The more he thought about Brian, the worse he felt. Justin slumped down onto the ground, burying his head in Soli.

Was it going to be Brian's turn soon? Cuidi had indicated that it probably wasn't, but Justin didn't really trust him. All he knew was that there was no way that Brian could die.

Then he shook his head. Panicking was not the answer here. There really was only one solution to this problem, and that was to put a stop to it. Getting depressed and worried was like sitting on a rocking chair; it gave you something to do, but didn't get you anywhere.

And as far as putting a stop to this went, in the event that it  _was_  Brian who had been marked, Justin realized that he would have to make up with Gwenhwyfar. That was the only way. She owed him one after the debacle with Jason Kemp, and it would be the only way to ensure that Brian stayed alive for several more years to come.

Satisfied that he had come up with a shaky solution to a very possible,  _very_ huge problem, Justin forced himself to not panic and drive himself crazy with worry. Every problem had a solution, and Justin was determined to only allow the worry to kick in once he knew he didn't have a solution that would work. As soon as his shift was over, he had to go find Gwenhwyfar.

Ah, screw it. He was going to ask Debbie if he could leave early. This was just too important.

When Justin finally walked back into the diner, he saw Debbie fussing over Brian, and he decided that the wisest thing to do was to probably stay as far away as possible.

Cuidi's question echoed in his mind, and Justin had to ask himself why he  _was_ so concerned about Brian. Technically, he should intensely dislike the man. Except as a human, nothing ever flowed as it technically should, and Justin only knew too well that things most certainly didn't happen as they should.

He sighed deeply. Despite his best efforts, Justin had an idea as to why he was this concerned about Brian.

And he didn't like the idea one bit.

"Sunshine, maybe you'll grace us with your company?"

Justin did not have the presence of mind to stop his jaw from hitting the table. Brian speaking to him in such cordial a tone, so soon after his own loss of control, was not something Justin had ever thought possible. And Debbie was there as well. He eventually managed to clamp his jaw shut, turning slightly red in the process as a suspicious Debbie and an amused Brian looked on at him.

_Ok Justin, time to go face the music._

Debbie looked from Brian to Justin with narrowed eyes, and Justin knew in an instant that he was in trouble with more people than he could count. Without a doubt, she had noticed Justin skulking around the kitchen earlier tending to his fist, and now she had Brian's face to put a fist to, so to speak.

"I have a proposition for you," Brian stated.

"Uh-huh." That was as intelligent and coherent a reply as Justin could muster. Debbie's increasingly suspicious gaze and Brian's seeming nonchalance was extremely disconcerting.

Brian smirked. "Vanguard has taken on some pro-bono work for the Carnegie Museums of Pittsburgh."

"You mean free work? Why the fuck would you do that?"

Justin had no idea where this was going, so he let Debbie do the questioning.

"Because it's easier to win awards for work that clients can't fiddle with because they can't pay for the damn thing anyway. Now, Sunshine. Given your encyclopedic knowledge of all things historical, I thought I could pick your brain and bounce some ideas off of you."

_Why_ was Brian being this...friendly? Justin wondered briefly if the man might have found out that he was seriously ill or something. He gulped and blanched. "Uh...what kind of ideas?"

"The creative yet historically accurate kind."

"Are you gonna pay Sunshine for it?"

"You've perhaps taken over from Melanie as Justin's solicitor? Hmm?"

Debbie scowled at Brian. "Well, if I don't watch out for you boys -"

"Yes, yes. I can recite the rest of your speech backwards in my sleep. Deb, seriously, don't you have tables to serve? Opticians to help by driving some poor unsuspecting customer blind with those colours? I'll discuss time and fees with Justin. Alone, if it's all the same to you."

Debbie harrumphed, and wagged her finger at both of them. "I'm watching you. Both of you. So don't think you can hide things from me. And the two of you better get your shit together. Soon. Sunshine, when you're done with this asshole, I want to talk to you." Snapping on her gum, Debbie finally headed to another table, and Justin began to feel his insides starting to fold over in nervousness.

"Uh...Brian, listen..."

"I can pay you in cash, if that's what you want, but I doubt it'll be much, given what I require from you. So I thought a barter system would be more suitable. You share your knowledge and skills with me, and I'll return the favour in kind."

"Huh?" Justin kicked himself for his inability to be coherent.

"I'll return the favour in kind. As in, payment in kind. As in, you'll be paid in a manner other than legal tender. I'm sorry, is this particularly difficult for you to understand?"

"No...I mean...no...just...what do you mean, in kind?"

"I'll teach you how to use a Mac."

"Huh?"

"My, our responses are particularly articulate today, aren't they? The Mac. As in Macintosh. As in a computer. You don't know how to use one, do you?"

To further demonstrate Brian's point, Justin nodded blankly.

"Yes, I figured as much. I'll teach you the basics."

Justin frowned, unable to follow the better part of the conversation. He also wanted Brian to start making sense as soon as possible, so that he could apologize for his behavior. The cooler and calmer Brian was remaining, the worse Justin was beginning to feel. Curiosity, however, got the better of him for the moment.

"Why would I want to learn how to use a computer?"

"Because you'll spend time and effort traveling all the way to Morgantown and Harrisburg and fuck knows where else to photocopy posters and leaflets that are illustrated by hand. Including the writing. Hand-crafted art is the way to go if you plan for it to hang in a gallery somewhere, increasing in value every time you throw a tantrum somewhere in public. If you seriously plan on seeing through this Pollyanna-esque campaign of yours, you might want to acquire a skill that will come in handy when you're trying to reach the masses. Consider it some friendly advice from a competitor." Brian stood up, and placed some bills on the table. "If you're interested, drop by my place tomorrow evening by 9." He turned around, clearly done with the conversation.

"Brian, wait. About last night..."

"What about it?" Brian's look was as opaque as Cuidi's had been.

"I'm sorry. I...I lost my temper and I'm sorry. I stand by what I said, but my behavior was out of line and I shouldn't have -"

"Sorry's bullshit. If you're coming, don't come before 8 and don't turn up after 10. If you're a no-show, I'll take it that you're not interested." And with that, Brian left the diner.

 

* * *

 

That still left Justin to deal with Debbie before he could begin to decipher the thought processes inside Brian Kinney's head. Debbie didn't look up when Justin walked into the kitchen, which he interpreted as a good sign. She was wiping some plates and stacking them. Justin wondered where both Kiki and Jimmy had disappeared to.

"You like him in spite of yourself, don't you?"

Then again, perhaps it  _wasn't_  such a good sign.

"I..."At a loss for words, Justin shrugged.

"Normally, I'd warn you to stay the fuck away from him. Brian Kinney is mad, bad and dangerous to know. He'll break your heart before you can blink. But this isn't normal. I've known Brian since he was fourteen; fuck knows why, you seem to have gotten under his skin."

Justin had started shaking his head even before Debbie had finished speaking. "No no no...Deb, you've got it all wrong...Brian...I haven't got under his skin at all!" Justin laughed, because the mere thought was ludicrous, and saying it out loud was even more bizarre. "He finds me annoying and irritating and I think the phrase you're looking for is that he's constantly tripping over me because I keep getting in his way; not that I've gotten under his skin...and...and...I don't like him. I mean I do, but I don't. I mean..." Brian was right; he  _was_  being particularly inarticulate today. "I mean, I think it's just that I find him attractive. That's all. I...that's all it is."

Debbie finally focused her attention on to Justin, walking away from the sink.

"Honey, I've been around the block too many times not to recognize bullshit when someone hands it to me, even if they smile as pretty as you. You slug Brian Kinney and you're alive to tell the tale means there's a lot more going on there than you'd like me to believe. So you listen up, Sunshine. Normally, I'd tell you to stay the fuck away from him. But this isn't normally, so instead, I'm gonna tell you to stop being such a chicken shit and try going after what you want instead of lying to yourself. I'm watching one kid waste away from heartbreak; fuck if I'll watch that twice over. You better get your shit together, or you're gonna have me to deal with. Now, get out there and refill the ketchup bottles."

 

* * *

 

_Jason Kemp._

Brian clicked on page 8, and waited for the internet search to load. There had to be  _something_ out there. It was absurd to think that Debbie and Lindsay could walk into bathhouses and successfully find out a name to pin to a dead body, but that he would be unable to find any trace of said dead body on the internet while the person had been alive. I have a name  _and_ a face  _and_  a location. This simply could not be the needle in the haystack that it was appearing to be.

Brian lightly touched the side of his face, and for about the fifty fifth time that day, thought to himself what a relief it was that Justin was a reasonably small guy, at least when compared to himself. Brian still couldn't figure out why he had allowed Justin to get away with what he had done last night. He leaned back, inhaling deeply from his cigarette and taking a temporary break from Jason Kemp. As long as he was dwelling on Justin, Brian didn't understand why he let Justin get away with  _anything_  he did. Under the best of circumstances, Brian was not a patient man. And yet, when it came to Justin, he seemingly had the patience of Job. Not only had he tolerated the blonde's antics, Brian couldn't deny the fact that he frequently sought him out. And unfortunately, it wasn't always a matter of tolerating Justin. Sometimes, increasingly often, it had actually become enjoyable being around Justin.

_Why does he have this effect on me? Why does he make me care about things that I normally wouldn't even think about? How the fuck did I end transporting a dog in my jeep? Twice?_

Brian wanted to say fuck it. He wanted to say fuck it all to hell. The ideal solution to all this would be to go to Babylon and fuck someone's brains out, and then drag another three tricks back to his place and do it all over again. This was nothing some Ketamine and Beam and sex couldn't fix.

Yet he was on page 8 of a search on Jason Kemp. With three dozen tabs open, exploring every little link that had a spark of a potential clue on it. A wild goose chase if there ever was one. And all this not to find out about Kemp, but in hopes of gleaming a nugget of information about Justin's past.

_Who the fuck am I kidding? I'm going to need a lot more than Ketamine and Beam to find a solution to this problem._

Brian wondered if Justin would turn up the next evening. It was a gamble, but if he knew anything about that firecracker blonde, it was that he was like the proverbial camel and the tent. He was willing to bet his entire wardrobe that Justin would turn up tomorrow at sharp 9.

Brian thought back to that long ride back from Morgantown to Pittsburgh. He thought about Peter. About Stockwell. About Justin. He thought about how, if Justin turned up tomorrow, Brian would inadvertently end up helping the competition.

Except that it wasn't inadvertent.

_I don't want to be a better person. I don't want to even share a zip code with what's right or a conscience._

_And I don't want to ever hope that I was the one lying face down in the dumpster._

Brian cursed. This was the fucking problem with Justin. He made Brian think about things that were normally kept safely locked away, and worse yet, he kept trying to make Brian feel. The blonde was undoing years and years of hard labour that Brian had put in, erecting all these walls.

_Goddamn you Justin Taylor, or whatever the fuck your real name is. I was getting along just fine until you came into our lives._

The only thing that could be done until he built up a tolerance against Justin was to keep the blonde where Brian could watch him. And the best way to build said tolerance was to find out what lay beneath Justin's lies.

_Think, Kinney. Who could Jason Kemp have been?_

_Who the fuck indeed._

Jason Kemp was a hustler. Debbie had known that, given the hours he patronized the diner. Brian wanted to kick himself for not putting two and two together sooner. Jason Kemp hadn't looked like just any hustler; he fell into a very specific category. He was a twink; he was chicken. He could have quite possibly been in the running to being someone's rent boy.

Brian left his current search midway, and opened several new tabs. On each of them, he typed the URL of various chat forums and websites that would fit the bill.  _These_  were the sites he needed to be searching. 

It took another forty minutes for Brian to find anything, but his perseverance finally paid off. In a now defunct forum, Brian found an old, archived chat session between several members, all using various aliases. He followed the specific thread, wherein someone calling himself 'RentU4$' was advising a 'JK' on how he could hook JK up with willing clients. When a good fifteen messages later, JK gave in to the lure and posted a picture of himself, Brian knew he had hit pay dirt.

It was a grainy photo from a mobile phone, but it was enough for Brian to recognize JK as Jason Kemp.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**The following day, early evening (conversation with Soli in Latin)**

 

Justin walked briskly, tightly holding on to his bag of goodies. Well, technically it was a bag of goodies meant for Brian.

"C'mon, Soli, we're going to be late. Now remember, you have to behave, okay? Brian is going to be in a foul mood, so you have to be on your best behavior, and I'm going to try my best as well."

He smiled to himself as he passed a smattering of anti-Stockwell posters. This was a location that Daphne had been in charge of, and he couldn't help but feel a surge of pride as he thought of how effective the second round had also been. It obviously hadn't garnered as much attention as the leaflet drops, but it had been strong enough to warrant two editorials, and that was good enough for now. Important people were talking, so he was that much closer to making the masses think. He had a few days respite before the next step, which gave him time to fine-tune his plan.

Of course, fine-tuning a plan meant that he ended up wondering about Brian's motives for about the millionth time within any given hour. It was impossible to believe that Brian had switched sides, and yet, it was equally undeniable that Brian was kinda-sorta-in-a-way helping him. Justin decided that Churchill had thought that Russia was an enigma only because he hadn't met Brian Kinney. Because clearly, Brian was far more inexplicable than any tongue-twisting quote could begin to describe.

Justin certainly had been at a loss to explain to Gwenhwyfar why it was imperative that she find out who was assigned to Brian, if anyone, and why it was of paramount importance that she made sure no harm befell him. It was far easier to extract the assurance out of her though, because she was as desperate to mend fences as Justin was to keep Brian safe. Justin closed his eyes momentarily as he heard her final words echo inside his mind.

" _Aeolus, you must be careful about not falling in love with a human...you know that you are going to return to us soon."_

" _I am NOT in love with Brian...that's nonsense!" Gwenhwyfar's expression had prompted him to make ever more fervent denials. "Look, Gwen, I'm not interested in him, and he's not interested in him, let alone love...I mean me. He's not interested in me. Or in love. With each other. I mean... you know what I mean! We practically hate each other."_

_Gwenhwyfar had given him a long, strange look. "You know Aeolus, the opposite of love is not hate. It is indifference. I do not see indifference in you, and that worries me."_

He hated it when everyone around him made more sense than he did. First Cuidi, then Debbie and now Gwen. To be fair to himself though, Justin thought Debbie was more off the mark than anyone else. It was ludicrous to think that Brian was even remotely interested in him. Well, maybe that was not exactly true. Justin had enough awareness to realize that Brian was interested in him enough to want to have sex with him. But that was where the interest began and ended.

If Brian was interested in anyone, it was Michael. That was patently obvious. The insane animosity towards David, the almost pathological way in which Brian held onto Michael, bizarre as it was. Why would  _anyone_ want Michael, let alone Brian? Brian could have anyone he wanted. He could have... _stop._

That sounded way too much like jealousy and not at all like indifference, he thought.

_Aeolus, what have you gotten yourself into?_

 

* * *

 

Brian stared at Justin, who was smiling brightly at him, bags clutched tightly against his chest. His eyes widened incredulously as he noticed Soli standing next to the blonde, wagging her tail. In fact, her entire lower body was shaking from side to side, as if she was taking part in a strange canine calypso.

"Do you know how to read the time? It's still seven. What the fuck are you doing here?"

To say that he was in a bad mood would have been an understatement. He had woken up feeling sick, but braved going to work, only to have Cynthia practically have security escort him out of the office, witch that she was. He really  _had_ been well enough to make it through the day. The afternoon at home had been spent...Brian couldn't remember how it had been spent. Apparently, on rare occasions, two Advils and a glass of water had the power to knock him out. He had woken up just ten or fifteen minutes ago and was very unhappily realizing that he was in a dilemma. He would have to call Justin and tell him not to come, except that if the blonde had planned on never turning up, it would end up making Brian appear a fool.

Now that Justin was here, several hours earlier than planned, Brian was annoyed. First off, Brian looked like shit, with pasty, sweaty skin and.... _wait. Who cares how I look?_

_Right?_

"Can you move, so we can come in?"

"Who told you to turn up this early? And who in fuck's name told you that Mary could bring her little lamb?"

And yet, Brian found himself moving aside to let them inside.  _Damn it._

Justin looked at him in utter confusion. "Mary? I thought you called me Sunshine. Mary's a girl's name. What do you mean, 'Mary'?"

"Mary had a little...aaah, fuck it!"

That's it, Brian decided. Justin must be the unfortunate by-product of some feral-child type horrible experiment gone wrong.

"Sit down like a good girl, okay? Remember what I told you?" Justin was speaking to Soli, who, indeed, had sat herself down. Justin placed the bags on the kitchen counter. "This place is...it's gorgeous."

"Are you going to answer  _any_  of the questions I asked you?"

Justin stared at him blankly. "You said something about Mary. I don't know a Mary."

I'm trapped in the twilight zone, Brian thought. "Oh my fucking god. Did you come here with the express purpose of driving me insane? And what in fuck's name is all that?"

"You're sick. I'm here to make you feel better."

_Oh Sunshine, somehow, I don't think that means to you what it means to me._

But that wasn't what Brian said out loud. Out loud, he asked "Who told you I was sick? And  _what_ is all that?"

"Lindsay called Debbie. She had called your office this afternoon and Cynthia, your assistant had said that you were sick. The common consensus was that you must be  _really_  sick to skip work."

"I didn't  _skip_ work; I was chased out," Brian mumbled. Justin was opening and closing drawers as if he owned the place. The dog had decided that it was better to rub herself against Brian's leg rather than sit still as instructed. "Call off your dog." Brian couldn't wait for the earth to start spinning the right way about.

"Soli, I told you not to annoy him. Come here and sit down." Mercifully, Soli obliged.

"What the fuck is that?"

"Two extra strength Tylenols and water. Debbie said you take Advil, but it was always Tylenol that worked when you were a kid. Stop staring at me and drink it."

That earned Justin a glare, but Brian drank it anyways. "And why did you bring the whole grocery store here?"

"Lindsay said that you would be too mad at the world for making you sick to eat like a normal person. And since I was going to come here anyway, I figured that I might as well come a bit earlier than planned. Debbie said that real chicken soup tastes better than the stuff from the can. She told me how to make it, too. It won't take too long, I don't think." Justin had the audacity to furrow his brows and look Brian up and down. "I think you need a shower, anyway. The soup should be done in that time."

"I'm not a fucking invalid."

"Hmm. Of course not. Just potty-mouthed and petulant. And completely ungrateful."

"I didn't ask you to come here with fucking soup."

"As I said, ungrateful. I'm being nice to you. Instead of being so grouchy and suspicious, just smile and accept it. Humans can be kind. It  _has_  been known to happen. Really, Brian, you smell like some of the customers who walk in through the diner. It won't kill you to stand under some warm water. Soli, can you please go help Brian take a shower? Make sure the water's not too hot and he uses lots of soap."

Brian glared.

Justin smiled.

Soli slobbered.

"First I'm chased out of my own office and now I'm being bossed around in my own house." he muttered, but turned to leave. A shower  _did_ sound good. Besides, it would be infinitely easier to out-glare Justin once he was back to being able to look like he stepped out of GQ.

Fucking Cynthia. Fucking Lindsay. Fucking Debbie. Fucking Justin.

He looked over his shoulder at Justin, who was busy talking to himself, or possibly Soli, and chopping something on the cutting board.

_Oh yeah. Fucking Justin._

_If only._

 

* * *

 

Maybe it was the shower, or the Tylenol, or maybe the damn soup, but he was feeling better. Much better. Which was a good thing, because that meant the evening was proceeding as originally planned. Brian was pleasantly surprised with Justin. His historical knowledge was incredible. He knew people, events, places...he knew the founding fathers, but not Mary had a little lamb. There was a logical explanation for what constituted Justin Taylor, if he could only find it somewhere. Brian was also pleased with Justin, because the guy was naturally talented. It was actually fun bouncing ideas off of Justin. He knew his history and he had a natural feel for art. Stockwell's campaign aside, it had been a while since Brian got involved in a campaign beyond conceptualizing it, and it was nice to have fun while doing it. Even Soli had been well-behaved, finally falling asleep near Justin's feet.

"I'm actually impressed with what you've managed on the computer. Maybe a few more lessons and we could finally bring you up to speed with  _this_ century, Sunshine."

Justin smiled enigmatically, but didn't respond to that. Instead, he leaned back against the chair. "I'm hungry."

"I hear they're serving soup in the kitchen."

Justin narrowed his eyes. "That's for sick people. Besides, I already had soup. Why don't you have real food?"

Brian rolled his eyes. "There are apples on the counter."

"That's  _fruit_."

"So? Still qualifies as food." Brian laughed, seeing Justin look at him mutinously. He tossed some menus at Justin. "Order whatever you want. I'm not hungry."

Justin studied the menus for a full two minutes before he handed them back to Brian. "I have no idea what any of that is. Debbie doesn't make them, or eat them, or even have anything that sounds like it in her kitchen. I wouldn't know  _what_  to order."

Brian looked at Justin in unabashed amazement. "Wow, you really need an education, don't you? Did you spend your entire life in a library, being fed nothing but toast? And Debbie with her baked ziti's isn't helping any, I see."

"Hey, don't be mean to Debbie."

Brian rolled his eyes as he ordered dinner without the aid of any of the menus and then walked over to sit across Justin, who was still fiddling on the computer, completely enthralled with it. Unfortunately, Brian was finding himself more and more enthralled with Justin.

"If you weren't such an opinionated radical, I could've actually used you at Vanguard."

Justin burst out laughing. "I bet you wouldn't like having your authority questioned, especially in your kingdom. Maybe I should apply for a part-time job or something. I make really awesome coffee, you know."

"I recall something to that effect," Brian said dryly.

"Well, what would be the use of my joining anyway? You're going to go flying off to New York if you manage to elect that...that..."

"Asshole?" Brian offered.

"In your vocabulary, yes."

Brian smirked. "Aw, so you'd join Vanguard only if I worked there? I didn't know you were so fond of me, Sunshine."

Justin rolled his eyes, but it didn't hide the telltale flush of red creeping upwards from his neck. Maybe that was the reason that the blonde remained silent for few minutes before speaking.

"You don't like him. Stockwell. I mean, you couldn't possibly. Why are you helping him?" It was a quiet question.

"He's a client. It's my job, Justin."

"You have other clients...other well-paying clients."

"Yes, but none that have promised me New York."

Justin abandoned whatever he was doing, and slowly swiveled his chair to look at Brian. "So you'd really go?"

"Of course I would." Brian didn't know why it took him so much effort to say that.

"This is your home, Brian. Not because you grew up here...but...everyone you love is here. Everyone who loves you is here. They're going to miss you. And despite what you say, you'll miss them too. New York is going to be cold for you. Bright lights, but cold."

Brian tried to block out the truth of that statement. "Would you miss me?"

He shouldn't have asked that. But it was delivered in his patented sardonic tone, so it was unlikely that Justin would read much into it.

There was a beat.

"Yes," Justin answered simply, and Brian suddenly found it hard to maintain eye contact.

"It's my dream, Justin. Getting out of the Pitts, going to New York. It's always been my dream. Of course Stockwell is a prick and a bigot and an asshole and all that shit. But he's my ticket to making my dream happen."

Justin made a move to stand up, and then seemingly changed his mind because he remained seated. "I guess making your dreams come true will make you a success. But...isn't the kind of power and achievement that would make someone like you really happy...doesn't that come with making other people's dreams come true? Success on that scale? That kind of power over people?"

Brian didn't have an answer to that, and the two locked eyes for what seemed an eternity. Justin was the first to look away, turning back to the computer. But he spoke again, though it almost seemed as if he was talking to himself.

"There's no gold-plated streets to look forward to in the after-life. You have to make the most of what you can in this one. And by making your own dreams come true, you create passion. But by making other people's dreams come true, you create heaven. And I would think that for you...and then of course, we have the minor issue of what's right and what's wrong."

The rest of that thought remained unspoken, but Brian understood what Justin didn't say. And he hated the blonde for giving voice to ideas that Brian would much rather avoid. Justin had hit upon the truth, and that was a scary thing to behold.

_The power to make Stockwell mayor or the power to make everyone else happy?_

_And of course that minor issue of right and wrong._

Brian shook his head. He wasn't going to think about this. Not now. It would all come back to haunt him as he tried to fall asleep, so there was no point torturing himself twice over.

"How come you haven't ventured towards Babylon again?"

"I...uh...." Justin shrugged and stared studiously at the computer screen. Brian could swear that the blonde was blushing again.

Evil smile firmly in place, Brian went and stood behind Justin and bent his head down so that he could speak into Justin's ear and breathe down his neck at the same time.

"You had fun last time you were there... _that_ I distinctly recall."

"Umm...is this okay? Is this how I'm supposed to use this image?"

Brian laughed. He walked far enough to reach for the remote and suddenly, the loft was full of music.

Justin turned to stare at him, confusion all over his face. "Brian, what are you doing?"

Brian laughed softly, and in one fluid motion, grabbed Justin's hand and drew the blonde into him. "C'mon Sunshine, we'll make some heaven right here. Let's have some dancing."

 

* * *

 

It really  _did_ feel like heaven.

 _Way_ better than Babylon.

They were both laughing, but with their eyes. Sometimes, you just didn't need words. The two of them moved all around living room, dancing, laughing and blending into each other, while Soli, rudely awakened, watched on in amusement.

_Why did Brian always hide this side of himself?_

Justin felt himself skidding slightly, socks against the polished wooden floor doing him no favours.

"You're such a princess." Brian gently chided, catching him in time and keeping Justin from falling over.

Justin raised an eyebrow. "Now, is that anyway to speak to royalty?"

Brian looked at Justin enticingly, hair slightly disheveled and a thin bead of sweat running down his chest. Justin thought he might fall over for a second time.

"You're right Sunshine, let me try that again."

The kiss was incredibly soft and incredibly sultry, like whip cream and chocolate sauce and honey, and when they pulled away, Brian's arms were loosely around his waist and Justin's arms had circled around the taller man's neck. Amazingly, they were still swaying to the music.

"You're much better at that than you are with coffee."

Justin couldn't stop beaming. He couldn't stop dancing. He couldn't let go of Brian.

This was a very different kind of falling.

And Justin wasn't sure that anyone would be able to catch him.

"Brian! You're supposed to be sick!"

Brian reacted to the voice before Justin did, so he ended up doing a slow crash into Brian's chest before he pulled away far enough to look at the origin of the voice.

The loft door, which Justin had failed to lock, was open and Michael stood there, with David behind him. All four of them looked at each other in confusion, the expressions almost identical, varying only in its degree.

 

* * *

 

Justin watched, disappointment and resentment clouding his eyes, as Brian spoke to Michael in the kitchen, forehead to forehead.

The delivery boy had turned up on the heels of Michael and David, and the bag of food now stood idly on the counter. Brian had told Justin to serve himself, but what appetite Justin had had completely disappeared. Soli stood by Justin uncertainly, probably sensing the tension in the air.

"The Brian and Michael show."

Justin turned and looked at David, who had come up behind him quietly. For the first time, Justin noticed how sharply David was dressed.

"You and Michael...were you both..."

"I was taking him out to celebrate. Papagano's."

David smiled sadly at Justin's questioning look. "Michael got the promotion. We were having celebratory drinks with Debbie before I took him out for dinner."

Justin didn't need any more explanation to figure out how the two men had ended up at Brian's place instead. All the elation he had been feeling emptied out of him as his shoulders sagged.

"It's always going to be like this, isn't it? My running after Michael and Michael running after him?'

"The greatest love story never told...not that I've known either of them long." Justin felt a surge of sadness, but he wasn't quite sure which of the men it was directed towards, or whether it was for himself. Who am I kidding, he thought, I'm not even a human...I'll never have Brian...and as long as he has Michael, why would he even want anyone else?

"Long after I'm gone, he'll still have Michael. And Michael will have him." The words escaped his lips before Justin had any idea of what he was saying.

"Don't worry. Brian'll never fuck him. Pardon my French."

Justin looked at David again, not having the energy to phrase his question. He didn't have to.

"I know men like Brian."

Justin shrugged, self-awareness and self-preservation finally catching up with him. "I don't care. I'm not interested in him...Michael or no Michael."

David gently squeezed his shoulder in quiet understanding, acknowledging the lie but letting it pass. "Do you want me to drop you at Deb's?"

Justin motioned towards Soli, and was surprised when David merely shrugged.

"After tonight, he's - she's - nothing. Let's go."

"C'mon Soli, we're going home, girl."

The sudden movement of both Justin and David striding towards the door, coupled with Soli running to Brian, before joining Justin successfully caught both Brian and Michael's attention.

"Hey, Sunshine, what about your dinner?"

"Toss it. I'm not hungry." Justin spoke over his shoulder, but didn't bother turning back and walked out of the loft as quickly as possible and took the stairs two at a time. Soli ran after him. He heard Michael call out to David, words muffled with the increasing distance. If David opted to stay, Justin had no issues with walking back to Debbie's.

"I missed the reservation, but I'm sure we can find someone who'll feed us something." 

Justin nodded gratefully at David, who had easily caught up with him.

It didn't matter how good he was, sticking to making coffee suddenly seemed like an excellent idea.


	14. Chapter 14

**The next afternoon**

 

It was a good thing it was raining, because the tears on his face remained inconspicuous, becoming one with the rain water that had successfully soaked him. How had he become caught up in this absurd situation? He wasn't human; any minute now, Loki would summon him back. Nothing spelt finite better than his stay on earth as a human. And yet, here he was, slowly but surely falling head over heels for Brian Kinney.

Justin squeezed his eyes shut for moment, and it had the desired effect. He stepped in a puddle, and almost wished that he had been selfish enough to bring Soli with him, instead of forcing her to stay behind in what had now become her makeshift kennel near the dumpster behind the diner. Justin had wanted to be alone, away from everyone he knew, even remotely. Thus, here he was, wandering about in the rain, in some neighbourhood as far removed from Liberty Avenue as his feet would take him.

He couldn't have picked anything more futile even if he had spent an eternity thinking about it. Brian would have been the worst person on earth to fall for even as a human; and here he was pining after a man who was so clearly out of his league in every conceivable manner. This was precisely what Gwenhwyfar had warned him about; even Cuidi had subtly tried to open his eyes.

Justin grimaced. For someone who had been around for over five hundred years, it seemed that he was particularly stupid. What good would it do him, even if Brian's philosophy on life and love had been any different? His stay here on earth was only temporary; being human was a privilege that he was not entitled to. He would have to return to his former life not after experiencing the luxury of love, but the despair that came with heartbreak.

Being human was very much like a game of roulette; there were no rules, and apparently no amount of planning could ensure the desired outcome. He hadn't even wanted to  _like_ Brian. And yet...

Chaos. You could aim for cause and effect, you could make the most detailed, intricate plans and still, chaos reigned supreme. Because earth didn't play by rules, and plans only worked when the subject followed regular patterns. But humans were too unpredictable; they could never be reigned in and controlled in such a manner. Technically he was an angel, Justin thought, and even he had been unable to abide by his own rules as a human.

No matter what he did, how much Justin had tried to help, he couldn't. Because that ability to control was beyond his power and that humans would continue to defy the norm by doing the unexpected.

Was this the lesson Loki had wanted him to learn?

"Hi...Justin..."

At the voice, Justin stopped, and it took him several seconds to focus on the source of the greeting. Underneath a nondescript green umbrella stood Peter, Brian's nephew.

"Hey, Peter...hi...how are you?"

"Why are you walking in the rain? Don't you own an umbrella?"

Justin shrugged. "It wasn't raining when I left, so I forgot." He offered the lie easily.

"You can share mine." Peter offered, looking at him dubiously, stretching his arm upwards and outwards.

Marveling at the difference in tone from the first time he had met Peter, Justin stepped under the umbrella more to make Peter happy rather than any real need for shelter.

"Peter, there you are! What do you think you're doing, running off like - who are  _you_?" An extremely hassled woman, one hand carrying shopping bags and the other holding up an umbrella, glared at the two of them. Peter's demeanor changed instantly.

"Mom. This is Justin. He's Uncle Brian's boyfriend. He - "

"I'm not Brian's boyfriend!" Justin protested instantly, but neither mother nor son paid any attention to him.

" - was there with Uncle Brian in Virginia when he came to pick me up. Justin, this is Claire."

Now thoroughly embarrassed, Justin proffered his hand. "Hi Claire, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Claire looked as uncomfortable as Justin felt. She gingerly shook his hand. "Hello. I suppose I owe you a thank you as well, for helping out when this donkey ran away. And next time you introduce me to people, you damn well better say that I'm your mother." Claire addressed the last part at Peter, glaring at him intently.

Justin's eyes widened involuntarily at her speech, and he stammered, struggling between the need to remain polite and the desire to give her a piece of his mind. Peter looked down sullenly, shuffling his feet.

"Aahhh...um...there's no need to thank me...I didn't do anything...how's school, Peter?"

Peter shrugged. "It's ok I guess."

"Is Tim still getting on your case?"

"Who's Tim?" Claire asked, and Justin wondered whether she had been born with that frown on her face. There was no resemblance whatsoever between brother and sister.

"Someone in class...jeez, I've  _told_ you who he is,  _mooooom_." Peter stretched the syllable in exaggeration, smiling when Claire's frown deepened further. "Hey, Justin, you promised to play video games with me. You wanted me to teach you, remember? Do you wanna come over and stay for dinner? I could teach you today...if you want to, I mean. Dinner's not gonna be great, but still..."

Before Justin could answer, Claire did. "Peter, if you have a problem with my cooking, you can make yourself a packet of noodles. I have enough to deal with without having to cater to your every whim. And I really don't think that it's such a good idea - Justin coming over, that is. I mean, no offence Justin, but I haven't made enough dinner for another person, and I'm sure...you have better things to do instead of...of wasting your time with some child."

"But he  _told_ me that he wanted to learn!"

"And  _I'm_  telling you that -"

Justin could see another trip to Virginia taking root in front of his eyes, so before Claire and Peter ended up in a full-fledged fight in the middle of the street, he interrupted both of them.

"I actually have to meet someone tonight, so I won't be able to come anyway, Peter." Justin felt something inside him twist as he saw Peter's face fall even further, so he started improvising on the spot. "But I have a better idea. Why don't...why don't you...I...we...why don't we have dinner...why don't you teach me how to play video games, and then we can have dinner tomorrow? It's Saturday, after all."

"Really? Awesome!"

"Well, I'm not so sure that...." It was Claire's turn to struggle, wanting to nix the idea but not being quite sure how to. "I mean...you probably live..."

Justin thought quickly. He couldn't drag Debbie into this, and there was no saying how much information would have to be divulged to all concerned in that eventuality. "At Brian's. I meant, Peter could go...come...over to Brian's place...we could play some games and have dinner." Justin was fairly certain that Brian would rather swallow hot coals than go along with his proposal, but at least now the onus would be on Brian to make suitable alternative arrangements and speak to Debbie about it if it came to that.

"Oh c'mon mom, it's at Uncle Brian's place. He even has a PS2; I saw it! We go there often enough when you need money anyway. What's the big deal?"

Claire blushed, and Justin looked at a nearby store out of embarrassment he felt for her.

With a world-weary sigh, Claire finally acquiesced, and after finalizing the plans, Justin was left holding Peter's umbrella as mother and son walked away from him, their conversation taking the form of agitated whispers.

 

* * *

 

**Babylon, that evening**

 

Emmett was busy in the backroom, or so Brian assumed, and Ted was leaning against the bar next to him, being rejected by every man at Babylon. He was apparently relishing it. Michael was expected any minute now, and Brian was hoping that he'd leave David behind.

He was mad at himself, which of course meant that the rest of the world was to blame and would be forced to suffer the brunt of his mood. For the life of him, Brian couldn't figure out what his problem was. First off, there was last night. He had ended up slobbering all over Justin, much like Soli. The worst of it was, he had  _enjoyed_ it. Brian was certain that Justin had as well. There was some invisible connect between them, which he alternately loved or hated but was constantly unable to explain. He actually deigned to ask after the blonde at the diner that morning, only to find out that through some mysterious shift swapping with Kiki, Justin had effectively managed to disappear for the morning. Not good. Not good at all.

Justin was dangerous, whichever way he looked at it. On the surface of things, there were his lies, his mysterious past, his fake amnesia, his vigilante-activist stunts...and even more deadly was his affect on Brian; the way Justin reeled him in like a moth to a flame, making him say and do and feel things that Brian wouldn't have dreamed of doing even in his worst nightmares. What  _was_ it about Justin? Why the fuck couldn't he stay the hell away from the blonde? They hadn't even had sex yet; Brian shuddered to think what state he would be in if and when  _that_ happened.

He was Brian fucking Kinney. He wasn't supposed to like people; least of all a young smart alec bundle of...insanity. But the problem was, he  _did_ like Justin. The blonde either fascinated him or exasperated him; but there was no denying that he was slowly becoming enamoured by him. And it scared him shitless.

To add to his headaches, there was Michael. The one person that had been a constant in his entire life; the one person that Brian had thought he'd be able to count on, no matter what, no matter where. And instead, Michael was slowly but surely going to move away from him. Sooner or later, he would become a footnote in Michael's misspent youth, while Michael played happy housewife to David.

Brian knew that with one arched eyebrow, he could have Michael lapping at his feet, because no amount of Davids could change the fact that Michael was in love with Brian, as the whole universe very well knew. And as long as Michael held out hope, Brian would never be alone.

"Brian! I thought I'd find you here. I need to speak to you."

Justin stood in front of them, slightly breathless, wearing casual clothes and yet managing to look hot enough to fuck. This was  _not_ the evening Brian had planned for himself.

 

* * *

 

"Justin! Good to see you here." Ted was beaming. Brian almost tasted his dinner for the second time that evening.

"Hey Ted, that shirt suits you."

Brian turned to Justin incredulously, but his look was lost on the blonde. "You were looking for me?"

"Uh...yeah...see...uh..."

Emmett had joined them by this time, and was watching curiously as Justin's eyes wandered everywhere around Babylon except Brian's face. Brian waited impatiently for Justin to formulate a coherent sentence.

"Uh...I kind of ran into Peter today. And Claire."

 _Fuck._ No good could have possibly come out of a meeting between Justin, Peter & Claire.

Brian turned to Justin. "And?"

"Peter's going to be over for dinner tomorrow. At your place, that is. And -"

" _What?"_

Emmett looked from Brian to Justin with pursed lips, and then spoke just as Michael joined them.

"Michael, sweetie, you're here. We're just wondering who Brian knows called Peter."

"Peter your nephew?" Michael looked at Brian curiously. "What about Peter? Has he run away again?"

Brian looked around, unable to decide which of his friends he hated most at that moment.

"Peter is fine, by all accounts, it seems." He rested his gaze on Justin. "I'll discuss this with you later."

"Curiouser and curiouser."

Emmett earned a glare.

Ted cleared his throat. "So, where's David?"

"Getting us some drinks."

As Brian saw David heading their way, he grabbed Justin's hand. "It's time for later."

Justin seemed somewhat confused, but didn't object to being lead out onto the dance floor.

"Now what the fuck is all this about Peter being at my place?"

"Well, like I said, I met Peter and your sister. By accident."

Brian's eyes wandered slightly, and he was impressed with how well Justin was able to move and hold a conversation simultaneously. Unconsciously, he found himself move closer to the blonde.

"And?"

"And Peter invited me over for dinner, to their place. He wanted to teach me how to play...uh...video games? Anyway, your sister was not at all ok with the idea, and the two of them were getting into a big fight and I didn't want this to be a reason that -"

"Sunshine, just cut to the chase and spare me your motives."

Justin frowned slightly and Brian felt bad for snapping at him. And then Brian felt angry for feeling bad.

"So I said that I was busy, and then Peter was terribly disappointed so I invited  _him_ for dinner tomorrow. But your sister wasn't happy with Peter coming to my place and I didn't want to drag Debbie into this so I said that it would be at your place..." Justin's voice tapered off, and he was looking at Brian nervously.

"So this stroke of brilliance was  _your_ idea?"

"Well, I..."

"Look, he wanted a play-date with  _you_ , not me. Why the fuck did you have to drag me into this?"

"Brian, he's your nephew...I thought I was doing the right thing..."

Brian rolled his eyes. "You and your fucking doing good. Seems to serve everyone's purpose but mine."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"What the fuck ever, Sunshine. This is your mess, you deal with it." Brian was absolutely  _not_ going to play happy family with Peter.

"But Brian, he's your family, whether you like it or not. Do you really want him turning out like your sister?"

"I don't give a flying fuck what he turns into." He then noticed a tall brunette making eyes at Justin, inching closer and closer. "Fuck off." Fortunately, the man understood the daggers Brian shot at him.

Justin, meanwhile, was rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Well, unless you want to call your sister, or your nephew, Peter's going to be over at your place in the late afternoon, because I'm certainly not calling either of them to cancel. And if you want to speak to Debbie and switch the venue, I'd be more than happy to accommodate Peter wherever."

"Shut up. You're giving me a headache." Justin really  _was_ giving him a headache, but it had to do with a lot more than just this conversation.

Justin clearly wasn't done talking, though. "Oh, and your sister and Peter think that I'm your boyfriend. I told them I wasn't but I'm not sure -"

" _What?_  The fuck did you just say?"

"Look, they just came to that conclusion! I  _told_ them that -"

"I just  _bet_ you did."Brian spat out in disgust. "You with your notions of forever and eternity and roses and candies and feelings and love and other bullshit. Look, just because I kissed you a couple of times, and I dropped you and your slobbering pet all over town, don't get some crazy idea into your pretty blonde head about us being some kind of couple. Michael and David are a couple. Lindsay and Melanie are a couple. I don't  _do_  couples and I sure as fuck don't do boyfriends, least of all with you."

Justin had finally stopped dancing and stood in the middle of the dance floor, mouth open and eyes wide with hurt and shock. "Look, Brian, I wouldn't dream of -"

"Don't we all know what  _you_ dream of. You and your fucking school boy dreams; go share them with someone else."

With that, Brian stalked off, angry at Peter, at Claire, at Justin, and most of all, at himself.

 

* * *

 

He told himself he didn't care. Why should he bend over backwards trying to put Brian's family together for him when all the man was interested in doing was kicking dirt in his face? Screw Brian. Screw Peter. To hell with all of them...

Justin blinked rapidly, trying to get himself under control. He had to leave Babylon. He had to -

"Aw, what's with the long face, sweetheart? That doesn't look like tears of joy to me."

Justin found himself face to face with Marilyn Monroe.

He looked at the woman closer, and realized that it was a man dressed like a woman who looked a lot like Marilyn Monroe.

"It's nothing."

The drag queen stared at him, and Justin found himself shrugging.

"It's just...this guy..."

"Ain't it always a guy. So, tell me - how did you manage to get your heart broken by Brian Kinney?" She took a long pull from her cigarette as Justin stared at her.

"How...I mean..."

"Honey, I notice things."

Justin tried to chuckle, but the sound he ended up making was a warble closer to a toad croaking.

"He's just...he doesn't like me very much, and every day he finds harsher ways of letting me know that."

"A walking wet dream like you could have any guy he wants."

This time, his scoff came out exactly as he intended. "I wish."

Justin felt an arm squeeze his shoulder. "You  _can._ You shouldn't run after assholes like that. Make them run after you. Now go, walk up to that delusional posse and strut your stuff instead of running home like some teenage princess, okay?"

She kissed the side of his head before she made her way to the elevated stage as Justin let her words sink in.

A teenage princess wasn't the role he was intending on playing.

 

* * *

 

Justin found the guys exactly where he had left them, with the addition of David and the return of Brian. David was dressed in a particularly tight pair of jeans, and it was amusing to see both Emmett and Ted glance at his rear furtively when they thought no one was watching.

_Ok, Justin. You're not a little girl. Don't let him know he got to you._

He plastered a smile on his face as he joined them and stood beside David. He noticed Brian scowl, so he smiled particularly brightly at David and made it a point to mention the  _delightful_ dinner of the previous night before he looked at Babylon in general. "This place is packed tonight."

"It's the King of Babylon contest. All the hotties are out tonight!"

Justin grinned at Ted.

"Gentlemen and gentlemen, welcome our hostess for the evening, her royal rudeness Sheba, Queen of Babylon!"

They all turned towards the stage at the announcement, and Justin saw the drag queen who had spoken to him being carried onto the stage on a chair and laughed with the crowd as she stumbled out of the chair and barely made it onto the stage without falling over.

Sheba cupped each of her breasts in exaggerated gestures. "Gotta make sure the royal tits are intact!" She turned to the men who had carried her on stage. "All right boys, go away, go play with yourselves! Welcome to the seventy third annual Academy Awa...oops, wrong show! Welcome to the King of Babylon Contest!"

The crowd started cheering, and Ted and Emmett led their little group's contribution.

Sheba seemed to be on a roll. "The competition is stiff, and so are the contestants! But don't fret boys, you can still sign up and drop trou and win a thou! All right then, our first contestant is four alarm Ted; he'll light your fire  _and_  put it out!"

A guy in a firemen's uniform came on stage, and as the raucous crowd got louder, he started dancing about, slowly stripping his uniform off.

"Shaved chest, peck implants, steroids, hair club for men." Brian took a long swig from his drink.

Justin felt his eyes narrow for a nanosecond before he adopted a light tone. "Yeah, it's sad, isn't it? All these older guys still partying way past their prime. They  _just_  don't know when to stop."

Brian rewarded him with a morose glare, which Justin considered a victory of sorts.

David laughed. "Wise words, Justin. If I were you, I certainly  _would_ plan on making it an early evening, Brian."

Brian smirked. "Oh, don't worry about me doc, I'm yet to get to your age of penile implants and dentures."

"Brian!" Michael admonished him, but if anyone was listening to him, it would have only been so through an accident.

David looked unruffled. "Penile implants? That's a good one. You may not be that old Brian, but I'll guarantee you this: your stress levels are going to go through the roof, come Sunday. You might as well get all the rest you can before that."

Brian looked curious despite himself, but remained silent. Justin wondered who would break first, but it ended up being a no contest, because Ted took the matter out of Brian and David's hands.

"Oh? How come?"

David shrugged."Everyone will find out soon enough, I guess."

"Oh come on David, you can't start something and not finish it," Michael said, and Justin privately agreed with him, though he would ever have said it aloud.

"Brian doesn't seem particularly interested in my finishing it, and he's the only one that would want to know it before hand. No harm done." David was answering Michael, but the challenge was leveled at Brian.

Michael came to Brian's rescue.

"Well,  _I_  want to know. What is it?"

David shook his head in resignation, but apparently chose to give in. "One of my patient's is an editor at the - at a newspaper. There's been an anonymous tip detailing all the unsolved crimes under Stockwell, and some damning statistics about the ratio of unsolved crimes of gay and black victims vis-à-vis the straight white ones."

"Wow...is it like actually serious or is it some reporter sensationalizing bullshit?" Emmet twirled the garnishment on his drink as he looked at David. Justin tried his best to keep a neutral expression on his face.

"I'm not sure..."

Brian scoffed. "Well, we know what the answer is, then."

David put his drink on the bar and looked at Brian. "I wouldn't dismiss it so fast, Brian. This  _is_  a senior editor, and apparently the tip was very detailed, even giving case numbers. Made it damn easy for them to do the fact checking, and my patient gave me the impression that theirs wasn't the only paper to have received the tip. I first thought that it must have been part of this wave of mysterious anti-Stockwell propaganda that's been springing around town, but case file numbers? That sounds like a tip-off from inside the department."

Thank you Molley, Justin thought. The best place to get information from was the horse's mouth, and research was nothing new to Molly. It had taken himself and Vic hours, however, to organize that information into a manner that would be useful to them.

Suddenly, Justin felt himself being held under an intense gaze by a pair of hazel eyes.

"Uh-huh. I just  _bet_ the tip came from inside the department. And I bet they received the list of the cases typed out on an old typewriter somewhere."

"I don't care that you're taking this for a joke, Brian. I'm just relieved that there are groups out there who are working towards exposing Stockwell for the scum he seems to be." Completely oblivious to the fact that Brian's remark had been a veiled comment letting Justin know that he was in on it, David had obviously assumed that it was a dig at him.

"Yeah well, I have my own questions about people who prefer to operate under the darkness of the night." Brian glanced at Justin before staring dead ahead.

Justin wanted to throw his drink at Brian's face.  _So now we're back to that old hat, are we?_

Sheba's voice boomed over the speakers. "Gentlemen and gentlemen, contestant number two: Officer O'Reilly. Very arresting don't you think? Officer I just got a parking ticket, strip search me! Whoooooo!"

David sighed. "The problem with this contest is that it exposes the single most tragic flaw of gay culture."

Brian chuckled. "It exposes a lot more than that, Doc!"

"It exposes everyone's pathological obsession with youth, beauty, smooth muscular bodies and all things superficial," Justin found himself saying.

"I know, what a shame." The sarcasm was practically dripping from Brian's voice, and was enough incentive for Justin to continue.

"It just reinforces all the superficiality, and cocoons people into living in some strange universe that actually only exists inside their own two-dimensional head, thinking no end of themselves and ascribing to the world a set of rules that is equal parts nonsense and equal parts tragic. And until you - we - break free from this stunted adolescence and superficial values, you - we - will always be boys, and never men."

"Is that all?" Justin was certain that Brian may have been grinding his own teeth at this point.

"I happen to find what Justin is saying to be profoundly insightful," Ted volunteered.

"You would," Brian scoffed. "I find it to be profoundly full of shit. An opinion of someone full of hypocrisy and jealousy; utterly insecure and sexually frustrated, hiding behind pseudo intellectual ramblings, wishing they were straight so they could find a dumb pussy to drag down the aisle."

Ted looked visibly upset, and Emmett and Michael looked from Brian to Justin uncomfortably. David merely shook his head, as if he had expected nothing less from Brian.

Justin laughed, giving himself time to calm down, and recited Sheba's words to himself twice before he spoke.

"If that's the case, why don't  _you_  sign up?"

"Because I don't need to dance around in my underwear to get laid. You should sign up, Sunshine. Would do you a world of good."

"I think it's because you can't handle the competition...it's pretty obvious that Brian doesn't like sharing his toys,"Justin added snidely.

Ted coughed into his drink, and Emmett's eyes widened slightly as he glanced at Michael and understood what the retort alluded to.

"I don't need wiggle my ass for a fuck. I can have whomever I want."

Justin stared straight at Brian. "You  _can't_  wiggle your ass because  _you're_ the one who's too insecure to put yourself out there."

He left his position of standing beside David and stood in front of Brian, leaving a gap of an inch or so between them. "You haven't been able to have the one person you  _really_  want. Keep this up and you never will. I say we make this interesting."

Justin stood and whispered into Brian's ear.

"Let's just see who's really the insecure one, shall we? I'll bet you dinner with Peter that I'm not going to be the one to end this evening being sexually frustrated. I lose and I'll be yours for the night, so that you  _can_ have whomever you want."

Justin stepped back and smiled sweetly at the taller man. "I expect honour and honesty from you Brian, and I'm going to take your silence as acceptance of my offer."

He leaned forward and stood on tiptoes, this time capturing Brian's lips in his for a kiss that was way too short and promised way too much.

"Now the deal is sealed."


	15. Chapter 15

It had been twenty minutes or so since his 'deal' with Brian, and thus far, he had remained under the radar, so to speak. Justin had gotten as far as speaking to Sheba for a few minutes to put his plan in motion but apparently there was a previously booked lineup, so for all the assurances of having a deck stacked in his favour, Justin was still compelled to wait until his turn. Instinctively noticing that someone was watching him, he turned and from a good twenty to thirty feet away, Justin's eyes met Brian's. He winked at Brian before disappearing into the crowd, because having an outline of a plan and knowing exactly how it was going to be executed was not quite the same thing.

"You and Brian...? I mean...of course it's none of my business..."

Justin smiled at Ted, who had somehow materialized by his side. "You're my friend, Ted. And friends look out for each other, right? You don't have to feel guilty about being concerned."

Ted exhaled visibly. "Justin, Brian is -"

"I know.  _Believe_  me, I know. And I've certainly been warned plenty and more times."

"If you know, then why put yourself through that? Just look at how much Michael is suffering." Ted's face was a mix of so many different emotions that Justin had trouble reading the other man.

"Michael has his entire life to make his dream come true. Is it really suffering if it's in the pursuit of a goal that he might one day achieve?"

Ted shook his head. "It's something Michael will  _never_ achieve. And at any rate, Michael's been doing this for the last 15 years. He's used to it. It's you I'm worried about."

"I have no permanence, Ted; I'm going to be gone. Tonight, tomorrow or next month. I can't have love and forevermore with  _anyone_."

"But it isn't just sex for you."

"It'll be just sex for him...and...it is what it is for me. There's no need to make a big deal out of it, Ted."

"It's going to be a big deal when you get hurt."

"Brian can't hurt me by not being willing to offer me something that's not my right to enjoy anyway. And...I couldn't possibly hurt him either, because he doesn't care."

Ted shook his head. "Someone  _always_ gets hurt, Justin. And don't be too sure that Brian is all stone and steel...especially when it comes to you."

Justin sighed in exasperation.  _Why_ did everyone tell him that, when there was precious little evidence for it? "Since that seems to be a highly unlikely possibility, I think I'll take my chances."

"Right then...and what is it exactly that you have planned?"

Justin nodded towards the stage, where a man in a leopard print brief was growling at the audience.

Ted looked from the stage to Justin thoughtfully. "Do you have a song in mind? I know you hardly know anything of the music they play here. And you aren't planning on wearing that, are you?"

"Well, Sheba said -"

"Ugh! Puh-lease." Ted rolled his eyes in derision, and Justin tried not to giggle. "Sheba is a poor imitation of a queen, and moreover, she doesn't know Brian like  _we_ do."

"We...?" Justin looked at Ted dubiously. Ted was getting excited, practically rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

"We," Ted stated emphatically. "There's few musicians Brian will call a favourite, but David Bowie is one of those rare few. And I know exactly what the song should be. Don't just stand there Justin, look for Emmett. Only he can put together a costume from a Babylon wardrobe that can make Brian drool."

"David Bowie...?" Justin had to practically sprint after Ted. "Ted, wait. Emmett doesn't even  _like_ me. I can't ask him for help just like that..."

"You're not asking him,  _I_ am. And Emmett doesn't not like you."

"That's a double negative. You  _know_ he doesn't like me."

"You're letting him dress you up, you're going to dance on stage  _and_ you're going to get to Brian. Trust me; after tonight, Emmett will  _love_ you."

 

* * *

 

The night was for shit. The only thing on his mind (and other body parts) was Justin. The kid was undoubtedly up to no good; Brian just didn't know what he had planned. That kiss from nearly thirty minutes ago just left him craving for more, and there was no one at Babylon that was taking care of that particular need. Justin was right; he couldn't have the one person he really wanted, and it was driving him insane.

Brian wanted  _nothing_ more than for Justin to lose the bet he had made, but it seemed implausible that Justin would willingly put himself in a situation that wasn't in his favour. Unless...Brian shook his head. He was going absolutely insane.

Then there were Michael's suspicious looks and David's grating presence to deal with.

"How much longer do you want to stay?"

Though not part of the conversation, Brian heard David's question to Michael.

It suddenly struck Brian that this was what the future looked like; a house-trained Michael, living somewhere in the suburbs while Brian engaged in a constant battle of wills with a certain blonde - if he chose to hang around - not enjoying a moment of happiness.

Brian rolled his eyes as the refrains of Abba's  _Dancing Queen_ came on.

"Oh, my God, I used to  _love_  this song!" Michael was fist pumping the air, and looked like a shorter version of Emmett.

As he noticed David take a step forward and open his mouth to speak, Brian smoothly stepped in front of Michael, grabbing his hand.

"Then, let's dance."

_You don't get to screw my life over that fast, Doc._

 

* * *

 

Brian was enjoying the expression on David's face more than the dance itself, and for perhaps the first time that evening, he was enjoying himself. So Brian didn't appreciate Sheba's voice interrupting the song before it was halfway through, putting an end to the dance. And David's scowl.

Sheba, dressed as Queen Elizabeth this time, started extolling the virtues of the next contestant, and Brian, along with Michael, turned to watch in bored amusement.

"May I have your attention, boys and boys!" Sheba fanned herself in all the wrong places. Behind her, Brian noticed, the next contestant was standing. From his angle, the guy seemed to be wearing a fitted black suit and his face was covered by a black homburg that was pulled low.

Moving to get a better view, bored amusement turned into shocked amazement as Brian listened to Sheba.

Because standing behind Queen Elizabeth in the homburg and suit was Justin.

From his new vantage point, Brian had an excellent view of the stage. He looked Justin up and down, taking in the sleek black trousers, the fitted jacket, the hint of a waistcoat and the bow-tie sans the shirt. Brian felt his blood start to pump at a dangerously accelerated pace. Justin looked hot enough to fuck.

Sheba prattled on. "The next contestant is a covert agent for the CIA. Once while on vacation in Hawaii, he successfully negotiated with a group of terrorists who had seized a small plantation... _ooooh_ , how do you like that, boys?"

Justin pushed his hat upwards, eliciting a wave of catcalls from the audience. Catching his eye for the second time that evening, Justin raised one eyebrow and slowly ran his tongue over his lips before breaking eye contact. Brian felt the heat rising from his collar.

Sheba prattled on. "And my oh my, he also says that using only a torn condom and a fork, he once single-handedly defended a small village in the Dominican Republic from a horde of ferocious mosquitoes. His special skill is hurling eggs at small moving objects with deadly accuracy. He once read Hard Times, Hamlet and Heart of Darkness in one day and still had time to wash his dog - no wonder he works for the CIA, eh?"

Brian narrowed his eyes as a familiar guitar riff started playing. Stevie Ray Vaughan and David Bowie? This was  _not_ standard Babylon fare.

Sheba's voice picked up pace. "He sleeps only once a week; and when he does, he likes to sleep inside a jeep while being driven around town by a handsome egomaniac. His secret passion is to dance barefoot on a wooden floor. Gentlemen and gentlemen, here's Justin!"

As David Bowie started singing  _Cat People_ , Sheba scurried off as Justin took centre stage.

The boy seemed made for this moment. He moved slowly, sensuously shaking his hips and wiggling his ass. Brian was transfixed. It was difficult to tell whether Justin was teasing Brian, the audience, or the stripper's pole that was in the middle of the stage as he moved slowly towards it.

And then as the song suddenly picked up pace, Justin started moving his pelvis to and fro, grinding lower and lower and undoing his jacket at the same time. Despite his best intentions, Brian felt his own pelvis move unconsciously. The entire time, Justin was watching only one person in the audience.

When the jacket came off, the crowd erupted in raucous cheers, and Brian felt an unexpected twinge of jealousy.  _What the fuck?_

As the jacket that went flying into the crowd was deftly caught by a wildly cheering Emmett, flanked by Ted, it occurred to Brian that Justin may have had a little help on his cabaret number. Not that it mattered much; all Brian wanted to do was to climb up on stage, throw Justin over his shoulder, take him as far away as the jeep before fucking him senseless. And then turn Justin over and doing it again. And again.

_Fuck._

He dug his fingers into his palms out of sheer frustration.

"What are you doing?" Brian glared at Michael, who was actually clapping.

Michael frowned. "I'm cheering. Oh come on Brian, you have to admit, he's pretty good."

Brian sighed in exasperation. Justin was  _better_  than good. At this point, the waistcoat had come off as well, and Justin was practically dry humping the pole, incredibly managing to keep to the rhythm of the song while his trousers inched ever closer to the floor, exposing more and more of the ass that Brian was certain would be imprinted in his mind forever.

Soon, Justin was twirling around the pole, having reduced himself to just the hat, bow-tie and underwear. Brian's imagination - and dick - were both working overtime. Justin stared at him, biting his lower lip slightly, holding onto the pole with one hand. He was seduction personified. Rubbing his pelvis against the pole sensually, he started bending backwards from his waist, his free hand keeping his hat in place.

The noise of the crowd was deafening, almost drowning out the song. And yet, it as if there were just the two of them. Justin's eyes never left Brian's face, even as he smiled to the world at large, and Brian found it impossible to look away.

Putting out fire with gasoline, indeed. Brian gritted his teeth, knowing that the only thing that could put out  _his_  fire was way out of reach.

Justin was dancing for  _him_ , no matter whoever else was there. Brian had no doubt that even with the distance between them, Justin would have no trouble understanding the lust on his face for what it was. There was no way to hide something that was so palpably strong.

When Justin started twirling one thumb around the side of his underwear, removing his hat to cover his dick which soon would have nothing between itself and the population of Babylon, Brian knew he would have no choice but to walk up on stage and carry Justin off.

It was inevitable.

Fortunately for him, before Justin made complete fools of both of them, Sheba came back on as the music faded, signaling an end to the most sexually frustrating five minutes of Brian's entire life.

 

* * *

 

"Hail to the King!"

Justin grinned at Ted, as he joined them, the King of Babylon crown perched on his head. Brian watched, trying to keep his face expressionless.

"Covert CIA agent, huh?" David smiled at Justin. "Just one day of sleep?"

"What can I say? The laws of nature do not apply to me. On weekends, to let off steam, I participate in full-contact chess. I make extraordinary four course meals using only peanut butter, a tomato and a toaster oven. I breed prize winning bees. I've even spoken with Elvis." His eyes met Brian's. "But most important of all, I think I won twice tonight."

Brian looked at Justin, and never in his entire life had he wanted to fuck anyone more. He reached out to grab Justin's waistband, and in one strong, fluid movement, had the blonde pressed against him. Brian bent down and spoke into Justin's ear. He didn't bother whispering; Brian didn't give a damn who heard him.

"Fine. You won. Sleep tight Justin, because you and I both know that one of these days, I  _will_ have you for the night. And I will fuck you. All. Night. Long. And after that, you are never,  _ever_ going to be happy with anyone else. And that's _my_ promise to _you_."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all those who are wondering, Justin stripped to Cat People by David Bowie off the Let's Dance album from 1983. Youtube it. It'll be worth your while - I promise!
> 
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pRbuxshYvtg


	16. Chapter 16

**The next day**

 

Loud voices from the kitchen forced Justin to pause at the door, without walking out.

Debbie and Vic were arguing? About what?

If he didn't leave right now, he would wind up getting late to arrive at Brian's (walking about everywhere meant that one had to leave ample time for travel), so Justin decided to speak to Vic once he got back. That was until Debbie spotted him.

"Justin! Get in here for a second."

With Debbie looking ready to explode, Justin wisely chose not to argue and went into the kitchen where she stood, hands at her hips. Vic was seated at the kitchen table.

"You were at Babylon last night."

Oh boy, was he  _ever_. "Uh...yeah, why? Did I come in too late? I'm really -"

"What the fuck happened at Babylon?"

Justin blinked. "Huh?" He had no idea what Debbie was getting at.

"What did that asshole do?"

" _What..._ what asshole?"

"Brian fucking Kinney. He was there, wasn't he? Something  _must_ have happened, otherwise...otherwise...."

"Sis, you need to calm down."

"Don't you fucking telling me to calm down! This is the best thing to ever happen to Michael and he goddamn  _ruined_  it!"

"Deb," Justin ventured, "what happened? What are you talking about?"

Fortunately, Vic answered before Debbie opened her mouth. "David broke up with Michael. Emmett just called to 'keep us in the loop'. So to speak. And - "

"And thank fucking heaven he did, because lord knows  _Michael_  would never have told us."

Vic ignored Debbie's interruption and continued. "And my darling sister here thinks that Brian must have done something to instigate the breakup."

"Oh." That was just about all Justin could say. No matter how much he had expected David and Michael to break up, that too sooner than later, it still came as a surprise. And now that they  _had_  broken up...

"Justin?"

"Huh?"

For once, it seemed that Debbie was losing her patience even with him. "What the fuck did Brian do last night? I know you were all at Babylon."

"Brian...I honestly don't think he did anything out of the ordinary, Deb. He was just his usual self." Justin figured he was being as accurate as possible. David coming to his senses about the ground realities didn't mean that Brian had done anything special. In fact, as far as Justin had observed, Brian had spent more time trying to annoy  _him_ than he had trying to get at David.

Debbie snorted. "Well, they wouldn't have broken up with Brian hadn't done  _something._ Fifteen years I waited...and it's still the same damn story. Goddammit!" The dishwasher bore the brunt of Debbie's fury as Vic watched, not saying or doing anything to irk her any further.

"Debbie, maybe this is a good thing,"Justin offered. Vic shot him a look that best translated as 'you're digging your own grave'.

" _Good_ thing? How the fuck is this a good thing?"

"Well, Michael is in love with Brian, and if he isn't with David, maybe he'll find the guts to do something with Brian...."

"Michael and Brian is a story that is  _never_  going to happen, and the only reason poor Michael keeps holding out that torch for Brian is because that asshole is too selfish to tell Michael that he's nothing but a back-up plan."

Justin persisted doggedly. "Maybe Brian will -"

Debbie narrowed her eyes and glared at him. "You and I. I distinctly recall having this conversation before."

Justin wasn't sure  _how_  he felt about the news, but he was fairly certain that happiness was an emotion that he was definitely not feeling. He looked back up at Debbie. "Deb...there's nothing any of us can do. Michael has to make his own choices and Brian has to make his. They are, after all, adults."

"And they've  _been_ adults for quite some time." Vic added. "That is exactly what I've been saying. Don't interfere in other people's business, sis. Let them make their own mistakes."

"This is not  _other_  people. This is my son. When either of you become a mother, then you'll understand."

Justin tried hard to keep a straight face and Debbie belatedly realized what she had said.

"Oh fuck, you know what I mean. Anyway, I'll deal with this. Where are you off to? You don't have a shift this evening, do you?"

"Uh..." Justin wanted to lie, but knew that he technically had no good reason to. "I'm going to Brian's."

Debbie's hand made its way to her hip once again, as her eyebrows met her hairline. Rather, her wig. "And are you going to tell us why, or do I have to actually ask?"

Justin contemplated the most honest phrases that he could string together to give the wrong impression. "I think he has to watch his nephew or something...and I think he sort of needs a babysitter."

"And naturally, you'll help him sort his shit out. Someone's  _always_  there to sort his shit out for him, no matter how much of an asshole he is."

Justin was constantly surprising himself by defending Brian when the man wasn't actually around. "I know you're mad at him, but still, you like him, Deb. Besides, I think that sometimes, it's difficult for people to act in a normal, decent manner when they haven't seen examples of that as children. Not always, but sometimes."

" _Bullshit_. We were always good to Brian when he was growing up. He saw plenty of good examples here!" Debbie bristled.

"He saw plenty of pity, too," Vic pointed out quietly. "That's weakness for a kid that proud; I don't think he associates it with something he'd want to emulate." His gaze rested on Justin. "It's the actions that come from a place of equal footing and mutual respect that he'd be able to learn from. Perhaps that's what he unconsciously seeks."

Suddenly, Justin felt extremely uncomfortable under Vic's subtle observation, and he absolutely did not want to dwell on the meaning behind his words. That road was  _not_  paved with happy thoughts.

"I...I should be going before I get late." Justin walked away, when he turned back around and went and hugged Debbie impulsively. "Don't worry Deb, I'm sure everything will eventually turn out okay for Michael."

 

* * *

 

There was no worse curse than enjoying something that you were determined to hate. He was determined to hate the babysitting adventure with Peter and Justin, and yet, if not downright enjoying himself, he had found himself at least being pleasantly amused. Which was not good. At all. Because the road from pleasantly amused to positively delighted was not very far.

"Did you know that Michael and David broke up?"

Brian glanced at Justin for about a nanosecond before training his eyes back on to the road. They had just dropped Peter back at Claire's.

"Hmmm."

"So that's a yes?"

"Hmmm."

"It's not going to make Michael happy, you know."

Brian was mildly amused. "I thought you didn't like Michael; now you're worried about him being happy?"

Even from the corner of his eye, there was no way to miss Justin rolling his eyes. "I'm worried about  _all_ of you being happy. Or unhappy, rather. David made Michael feel loved and wanted. And  _everyone_ wants to feel like that, no matter what they'll tell you to your face."

"Well, don't worry Sunshine; Mikey feels loved and wanted."

Justin scoffed. "Certainly not by you. You treat him like a well-worn leather jacket in your closet. With prodigious care, but you only wear it when you go to specific places, in specific weather conditions. I really don't think that that's what Michael is aiming for."

Brian burst out laughing. "You totally lost me there, with your rather confusing metaphor."

Justin studiously avoided looking at him. "You  _know_ that he's in love with you, and you keep toying with him."

"And what is it that you expect me to do, exactly?"

Brian could sense Justin shift uncomfortably.

"I just don't understand why you keep playing so hard to get, when it would be so much easier, and simpler, to just...you know..."

Brian was beginning to catch on to the strange idea that seemed to have taken up residence inside Justin's head.

"You  _do_ know that I have not the slightest interest in Michael, right?"

"Everyone  _says_ that, but..."

"You know Sunshine, this would be one of those instances where everyone is actually right." Brian was chuckling. If Justin had been thinking all this time that he had the hots for Michael, well, then, that certainly explained a lot. He pulled the jeep in front of Debbie's, wondering what fond farewell awaited him tonight.

"Brian, I don't get you." He could hear the frustration in Justin's voice. "If you're really not interested in Michael like you say, why do you keep thwarting his chances to be happy? You  _must_ know that David and he'd never have broken up, if not for you. I mean, for whatever reason, David was totally in love with Michael."

"Justin, love is bullshit. Friendship, not so much." It was true. David would have eventually hurt Michael, or vice versa, and one way or another, it would have ended in acrimony and a break up, but not before his and Michael's friendship ended in the process. Himself and Michael, on the other hand, would be best friends for life. Especially now that David had so conveniently removed himself from the picture.

Justin, meanwhile, was shaking his head. "You're no friend to Michael so long as you don't respect him."

"Of course I respect Michael; why would you come to that interesting yet nonsensical conclusion how?"

" _Michael_ believes in love, and you're wholly unable to respect that. He's in love with you, and you don't respect him enough to see that to its natural conclusion; whether it be disappointment for him or otherwise. Vic was right; you treat Michael with the same kind of selfish pity you probably feel he treats - or at least treated -  _you_  with. Why are the two of you this childish?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Uh...nothing...just...nothing. I just don't think you treat Michael like a real friend would, that's all. There's just no respect. You treat  _me_  with more respect than you do him. Anyways, I should be going...so umm...I'll catch you later."

And the blonde scampered out of the jeep, leaving Brian to stew over his words.

 

* * *

 

**Late in the evening, the following day**

 

This better result in something useful, Justin thought as he stood outside the bar, gathering his courage. Gwenhwyfar had pulled through for him as promised, and had given him a name: Kenneth Rikert. But apparently, that wasn't nearly enough to get anything done.

Justin had gone to the one person he had thought could help, which was Melanie. He didn't have a background story that was believable, so he had dispensed with it altogether. He had hung around Melanie and visited her at her office enough times to understand that there was such a thing as attorney-client privilege. It didn't matter that Melanie, like Brian, would know that the whole amnesia story was a ruse. Firstly, she was bound to confidentiality; secondly, the natural explanation that she'd likely turn to was that he was from the same background as Jason, doubly more scared because he knew who Jason's killer was.

So he had gone to her, dispensed with lies and backstories, and had simply asked for her advice. He said that he knew who was behind Jason Kemp's murder, he had a name - that of a former cop - and wanted to know the best way in which to go to the police with it.

Justin wanted to kick himself for his naiveté. Melanie had been nothing short of professional. She had a few questions, which they both knew had to be asked. They both also knew that the questions would go unanswered.

More importantly, though, she had no good news, or positive instructions for him. She had made a few discreet calls to the D.A.'s office, waited for favours to be cashed in, and had been told several unsavoury tidbits of information. The first and foremost was that Kenneth Rikert had been the partner of a certain Jim Stockwell for 15 years, before good old Jim had climbed up the ladder. Good old Jim, who was still Chief of Police. Good old Jim, who was running for mayor. Running to  _his_  force, pointing a finger at  _his_  partner of 15 years? Justin didn't need Melanie to tell him what a terribly lousy idea that would have been.

Then there had been the issue of evidence. Or lack thereof. Melanie had instructed him, repeatedly, on how he simply couldn't go to the police with not a shred of evidence, no matter how compelling his 'eye witness' account may have been.  _Especially_ given the current political climate.

Justin had thought long and hard afterwards, first on his own and then together with Daphne. They hadn't had much to go on; evidence could mean a million different things, and neither he nor Daphne were particularly well-versed in the human way of getting things done. Ultimately though, the two of them had decided that perhaps the only choice Justin had right now was to make contact with Rikert. There were seemingly no other avenues, and given the lack of options, it seemed as good a plan of action as any.

Many half-baked ideas later, they had figured out that the place to start would be the old haunts of Jason Kemp, because that was where he had been picked up by Rikert. Justin didn't have to rack his brain too hard to remember the very few places where Jason had done business; there were a grand total of three bars to pick from.

Justin figured that if he wanted to make contact with Rikert, there was only one guise he could do that in. Jason had been a 19 year hustler old when he had died; Justin figured that he was close enough in looks to try his luck at getting close to Jason's former client. What he expected to achieve, Justin wasn't still sure, but Daphne and he were convinced that a plan would formulate on the fly were he to actually come across Rikert. Thus far, he only had Gwenhwyfar's description to go by, but still, that was better than no description at all.

Justin had dressed as close to a hustler as his meager wardrobe and still more frugal wallet would allow; at least his shifts at the diner had given him an expansive knowledge of the wardrobe choices of hustlers, drag queens and all other creatures of the night.

He had gone to one of the joints earlier in the evening, but after gauging the crowd there, it didn't seem like a place where a homophobic homosexual would patronize. It just seemed like a seedier version of Boy Toy. He spoke to a fellow hustler there who pointed Justin in the right direction. At least he _hoped_ it was the right directions and not the directions of someone trying to protect his turf.

His interaction with Brian the previous day had given him courage he didn't know he had. Justin knew now that he was hopelessly in love with Brian; hopeless not only because it impossible that Brian would reciprocate in kind but also because Justin's time on earth was extremely limited, though he wasn't exactly sure when the sand would actually run out. That was why, despite Vic's subtle hints and Debbie's previous not-so-subtle ones, Justin had tried to bring Brian and Michael together. Justin had the grace to admit to himself that much of his animosity towards Michael had - and still was - rooted in a jealousy that he had never quite comprehended up until now. At any rate, it wasn't his place to decide who would make a good partner for Brian; he had honestly believed that the man was pining, albeit in secret, to be with Michael, and he wanted what he believed was best for Brian. If Brian wanted Michael, so be it. Of course, that apparently wasn't quite the case, given Brian's seemingly genuine denial of all romantic feelings towards Michael.

The thing about thinking about Brian in any manner or form came with the stinging knowledge that he'd never even have a chance with the man; nothing reminded Justin more about his limited time on earth than Brian did. The one - and only - good thing about that was that Justin was determined to do whatever he had to, to avenge Jason Kemp's death before his _own_  time was up.

He looked up at the nameboard; thin red neon lettering that had clearly seen better days.

_Robbie's._

Justin took a deep breath, and started walking towards the door. It was now or never.


	17. Chapter 17

Brian leaned back further into his couch after taking a swig of his whiskey. Thus far, his Sunday had been an unmitigated disaster. He had woken up in a state of disquiet, and Brian blamed that solely on vague, Justin-related imagery that kept his body from being completely at ease.

Of course, before long, he had a whole lot more blame to lay at Justin's doorstep. As predicted by David, the Sunday papers were full of Stockwell's track record as Chief of Police, specifically highlighting the disproportionate amount of unsolved cases that were of black, Hispanic and gay victims. Brian had no doubt whatsoever that Justin was behind the stunt; how the blonde had got access to police files and records dating back several years though was a mystery.

Stockwell had then called, foaming at the mouth, railing about a conspiracy against him and how he was going to tap his own department to figure out who had leaked the information. He also then reamed into Brian for not keeping all the major newspapers in Pittsburgh in check and on their side, and how Vanguard was not 'doing the job they were being paid to do'. Brian had been sorely tempted to tell him that had Stockwell been less of a racist, homophobic prick, 1/10th of the job Vanguard was doing would have been enough to win him the presidency, leave alone becoming the mayor. What he did end up telling Stockwell was that Pittsburgh still enjoyed a large amount of independent news reporting, and there was nothing Vanguard, or Brian personally, could do about that, unless Stockwell could advance them enough money to outright purchase the publishing houses.

Being snarky with his client didn't solve the problem though, and half the staff at Vanguard were dragged into the office immediately, to formulate new ideas to try and contain the damage and create some good publicity for the most miserable client Brian had ever had the misfortune to work for. It was no longer enough to show Stockwell playing with his kids, when said kids were white. It hadn't been easy to manufacture good PR opportunities for a man the city was increasingly becoming suspicious of, and Brian had ended up having to cash in on way too many favours. Other, more blonde reasons aside, Brian was beginning to wonder if New York was worth all this trouble.

New York. A concept that Brian had been forced to dwell on later, after Debbie had turned up at his doorstep, uninvited and unannounced, right after he had finally come back home. Brian winced internally, as he remembered.

Debbie certainly wasn't  _his_ mother, but perhaps that's why Brian had always had respect for her. She was one of the few people he knew, along with Justin, Melanie and David, that actually stood up to him and called him out on his bullshit. And unlike David and Melanie, she didn't threaten to take away something (or some _one_ ) that Brian viewed as his. It was hard  _not_ to respect her. Growing up, watching Debbie with Michael, Brian had observed what mothers were  _supposed_ to be like; not like his own sorry-ass, alcohol-addled one. It was a lesson in experiencing something he'd never have.

Maybe that's why Debbie's desperate mother's plea was forcing him to face up to issues that Justin had touched on just an evening ago. He had been flippant and blasé with Debbie, but that didn't mean that her words hadn't sunk in. Not for a moment did Brian think that he and Michael would end up as two old queens in Palm Springs; his career plans alone would place him elsewhere. And frankly, he didn't know that Michael and his relationship would survive in a vacuum like that. They shared what they shared precisely because of the setting Pittsburgh provided them.

_You ruined my kid's life!_

Debbie had been hysterical and screaming, but it was the desperation that had prompted the visit that got to Brian. Had he really fucked things up for Michael that bad? He remembered Justin's words from earlier, about how he didn't respect Michael. Hard as it was to admit; Justin was right. Brian loved Michael, but it was hard to respect someone who allowed Brian to walk all over him. And now Brian was finding it harder and harder to blame a person other than himself.

Another reason why he needed New York; he'd be free of all this drama and...and maybe then, Michael's life wouldn't be ruined, as Debbie had put it. But there wasn't time to wait until New York; for one, Justin's underground work was turning his campaign on its head and for another, New York could happen only  _after_  the election. He had to deal with Michael  _now._

Brian stared into the distance. Maybe it  _was_  time for all of them to be men.

He wasn't sure how long he sat like that, the cogs in his brain slowly turning, ideas and feelings and people in his head alternately blurring and then becoming distinct, slowly merging into each other.

Eventually though, the world outside his head demanded his attention. He could hear his computer beeping, signaling that he had new email. More out of habit than curiosity, Brian walked to his computer to check. Frankly, he didn't give a shit  _who_ was emailing him on a Sunday evening. When he realized it was a notification from some chat room mostly dealing with hustlers and rent boys, Brian couldn't even bother making the effort to read it before deleting it. When his memory kicked in, telling him that this was the chat room he had found when he had been looking for Jason Kemp, it was a good five or so minutes later, and Brian had to retrieve the email from his deleted items to find the link to the chat.

When he finally logged into the chat room, after wasting more minutes trying to remember his user name and password, he had to read the current dialogue twice over before he found what he was looking for. There was a message from some handle called UNDR4GE, addressed to RentU4$, saying that an old, out of town friend of JK's was heading to  _Robbie's_ , and that the 'meat looked promising'.

By now, Brian remembered that JK was the rather obvious handle used by Jason Kemp. There was a very good chance that a friend of Jason's would have known Justin. He changed quickly, and then checked the directions to Robbie's as well as the chat once more before heading out the door.

Maybe the day wouldn't end up being a total washout.

 

* * *

 

Brian was hoping that Jason Kemp's friend was still around by the time he finally made it to _Robbie's_. He had given Jason too much credit; the _Robbie's_ that Brian first wound up at was a respectable pub catering to young college students in the university area. He had to pull out of there double quick and make his way to the other  _Robbie's_ that he managed to find.

It was in a decidedly seedy area of town, and Brian had the dubious honour of thinking to himself that even he had never ventured into this neighbourhood. The bar itself seemed like a regular bar, if not quite as well maintained as Woody's, and most certainly not like its namesake that Brian had mistakenly walked into previously.

He noted predominance of old-school cars in the lot and the suburbian license plates, and decided that the bulk of the customers here were probably older, married-with-kids-and-I'm-not-gay but also I-like -a-bit-of-ass-now-and-then types. He rolled his eyes as he remembered Marvin. Where better for cheap hustlers to make money? There were a couple of them lurking about the entrance, but they made no move to chat him up. Brian assumed that they were probably waiting for a prearranged rendezvous. He looked at them both closely, wondering if either could be Jason's friend. There was only one way to find out, so he spoke to them, seeing if either were available for the night. They were both flattered, but they worked as a pair for a several regular customers, and Brian had his answer. Unconsciously relieved, he walked inside.

Brian ordered a beer that he sipped very slowly; he was not in his own backyard and wanted all of his senses functioning. He started talking to Phil the bar tender; that was sure to be his most reliable source of information. Like most bars, it was dimly lit, and Brian noted a couple of tv screens, showing a hockey game. Not being one to follow sports, Brian hadn't a clue whether it was a live game or just an old one filling up airtime. The crowd was as he predicted: older men, most of them on their own, drinking and watching, and young tricks, looking for business. There were a few customers who seemed as if they were here genuinely to drink and just hang out; Brian figured that they must live in the neighbourhood and were unable to make it to anyplace more respectable for some reason or another. After some small talk, Phil moved across the bar to serve several other customers. Brian swiveled his bar stool slightly to get a better view of the interior; he wanted to be able to pick out Jason's friend on his own, without having to pry Phil for more information.

And then he felt his entire body freeze, and his jaw dropped open slightly. Standing in the far corner, next to a pool table, was Justin, speaking to some old man.

Brian looked away, and then back at pool table. There was no mistake; it  _was_  Justin. He was dressed in a pair of jeans that was so tight that he half wondered if Justin poured himself into it. His t-shirt was equally tight, and its sleeves had been gotten rid of, exposing bare arms. Bare arms that some monstrously hideous old creature thought ok it fondle. Brian felt every organ in his body start to tense.

"Caught your eye, did he?"

Brian nodded, keeping his eyes trained on Justin.

_An old, out of town friend of JK's._

Justin.

_Fuck fuck fuck!_ Brian couldn't believe that he had been so stupid not to even consider that possibility when he had made his way here. There  _was_  no third friend of Jason's here; it was  _Justin_. Justin, dressed as a hustler, staking out Jason's former territory. Suddenly, a million questions were swimming about in his head.

"He's new. Another runaway, tryin' to make some money the only way he knows how."

"Did he tell you that?" Brian still didn't dare look away from Justin, afraid that the blonde might disappear into the darkness if he did.

Phil laughed mirthlessly. "He didn't have to. Me, I can always tell, just lookin' at them. Their hands, their language, the look in their eyes. It's the little things."

"Has he...?" Brian was afraid of the answer so much that he couldn't even phrase the question coherently.

"Nah, he only got here just a little before you did. He's gotten a few offers, but he's waiting for someone in particular. He's being stood up, if you ask me. I mean, if you were pickin' up a guy who looked like that, wouldn't you already be here? If I were him, I'd just pick up whatever came my way."

Brian stood up, and opened his wallet, taking enough cash to leave a good tip. "Thanks Phil."

Phil laughed, partly as thanks, partly in amusement. "Thanks man, but listen, you ain't the guy Blondie's waiting for. He described him to me, and while there are a few guys it could be, he ain't looking for you."

"That's what he thinks." Brian replied, before he made his way to where Justin was.

 

* * *

 

There was no sign of Rikert, but Justin was in the process of making a connection that was almost as good; he had inadvertently run into Jason's on-again off-again pimp - Gino. The man was slightly balding; what hair he had was combed back in a style that was too slick and too greasy to be considered tolerable and a good physique was clearly being wasted away on steroids. How the man had found him Justin wasn't quite sure, but he didn't care. This was an opportunity he would milk for all it was worth. So he swallowed his disgust, and let the man freely roam his hands around Justin's body while they tried to strike a deal.

The lies had come naturally; he had known Jason 'back home', and this is where Jason's words had led him to. While he knew that Jason was now deceased, he was hoping to pick up some of the clients that Jason had mentioned as being particularly generous; Justin had thrown in Rikert's description along with two other random characters that he had created. A phone call to the police department confirmed that Rikert was now retired, so retracing Jason's footsteps was the only avenue left and Justin was determined to somehow make it work.

He didn't care what the split would be so Justin had only gone through the motions of haggling. Not having a phone was a far more serious obstacle, and he was forced to give the phone number at the diner and go by a single name - Taylor.

Justin let his eyes wander about, searching for any signs of Rikert. Thus far, he had had to refuse several interested men given his mission and only the potential of Gino kept Justin rooted.

"It's going to be tough for you to make money if you're going to be so picky in this business...it's not going to be easy helping you, kid. You know, there's lotsa fun to be had, if you let yourself go..." Gino licked his lips lasciviously, and Justin fought the urge to gag.

"I already  _have_  a job; this is extra money. I just want certain types of guys." Justin smiled sweetly at Gino. "And there's something so sexy about men in uniform and men with power and just strong men..." Justin forced his protesting fingers to linger on the steroid-induced hump on Gino's arm, wondering uncomfortably about how the evening may end. If he couldn't find Rikert tonight, Justin did  _not_ want to end up having to please any of the other men at the bar. Still, he  _could_  use Gino's help.

"Well, in that case, maybe -"

"Sunshine, here I thought I had gotten the times mixed up when I couldn't find you."

Justin's heart quite literally stopped beating as he heard Brian's voice, and then suddenly it started hammering away on overdrive as he felt Brian's tongue lightly run across the side of his face before ending in a kiss on his neck.

Gino looked at Brian with undisguised curiosity.

Justin wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole.  _Why_ did he keep getting caught to Brian every time he tried to do anything remotely useful? And now he had no clue as to what to say to Brian. Or Gino. Most importantly, it was getting extremely difficult to think at all, what with Brian's heavy breathing into the groove of his neck, and Brian's fingers teasing his side as his arm wrapped around Justin.

Gino, on the other hand, had his mind working like clockwork, figuring that he could make some effortless cash. "If you want Taylor, you need to go through -"

"If I want Taylor, I'll have him. Fuck off."

" _Brian!"_ Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, a single nerve forced a vocal objection, insistent that Justin didn't lose the only connection he had to possible leads. Of course, out loud, the objection ended up sounding hoarse and throaty and not all like an objection.

Brian smirked. Gino stared.

Justin cleared his throat and tried again. "Brian, you can't..." And then he couldn't figure out exactly how he was supposed to finish that sentence.

"It's okay Taylor, if he's a regular of yours, we can work something out later...I'll give you a call tomorrow."

"Thinking of increasing your clientele, are we? Just for that, I am going to fuck you. All. Night. Long. No one is going to be able to compare.  _Ever._ "

Brian made no attempt to keep his voice in check as he growled at Justin, and the hand that had snaked around Justin's side had made its way inside his waistband now.

Justin was breathing in a strange scent of alcohol, cigarette smoke, Brian's aftershave and another, more base, more animal and decidedly more dangerous scent of the man himself.

That was the most intoxicating of all.

Without losing a second, Brian had navigated him outside, into the darkness of the night. A night that was full of danger and lust and a promise begging to be fulfilled.

"Brian..." Justin felt the cool metal of the jeep on his skin as he was turned around and pushed against the vehicle. Brian was breathing heavily, and the look in his eyes was pure raw animal power. He pinned Justin between his arms and there was less than half an inch between their faces. Justin's eyes were widening in fear and desire, and there was little doubt as to which one would win.

"Did you really think that I would stand aside and watch while you get yourself fucked by the highest bidder?"

"Brian..." The name came out breathless.

"Do you  _want_ to be touched by those men in there?" Even Brian's voice was raspy, thick with anger and want and hunger.

"I want  _you_ to touch me."

Justin had no idea where those words came from. Brian inhaled sharply, eyes closing shut. Unsure of what to do next, Justin touched the side of Brian's face, trying to bring the other man back to him. That seemed to be all the encouragement Brian needed. Before Justin could say or do anything else, Brian was kissing him, deeply, intensely with all the power and the passion of a hurricane. Their bodies were melding into one, arms wrapped around each other and endless kissing the likes of which Justin had dreamt about for days, without ever expecting to experience it again.

When Brian finally broke the contact, Justin felt himself whimper involuntarily in protest. Brian didn't go very far; he had moved his head back just enough to be able to talk.

"Tell me what you want."

"I want you."

Brian ran his tongue down Justin's throat, and then right back up. "You want me to  _what?_ "

"Brian  _please..._ "

"I want you to tell me. Tell me what you want you want me to do."

Justin closed his eyes, pressing his head against Brian's face. This was what he wanted. From the very beginning, in spite of himself, this was what he had wanted. And now, given his feeling for Brian, it was the last thing he  _needed_ , but it was what he wanted the most.

_If I had to go back tomorrow, I don't want to have to go back having never completely known this man._

Justin opened his eyes, and looked up directly at Brian.

"I want you to have me for the night. Just like you promised."

 

* * *

 

The drive up to the loft had been exceedingly fast and exceedingly quiet. A million different thoughts were running through Justin's head, but by the time they got to the building, one thing was as clear as crystal in his mind: he was doing this. He was going to sleep with Brian. It didn't matter what Brian thought was happening between them, it didn't matter that the man probably hated him, it didn't matter that Brian probably thought of him as nothing more than a prostitute.

Justin's reality was different. In  _his_  reality, he was desperately in love with a man that he could never have. A man he could never even dream of having, because he was not of this world, and permanency was not a luxury he had. In that reality, Justin realized that this would be as close as he ever got to realizing his unspoken dream. If physical intimacy was all he could have, and even if that would also never be repeated again, he would grab this opportunity with both hands. He knew he had no right to ask for more, and he certainly wasn't going to waste his chances anymore.

It turned into a strangely crowded trip up to the loft, because a young couple got into the elevator with them, and Brian seemed to think it necessary to keep up appearances. Justin wondered if Brian had changed his mind, now that Justin had finally decided to be honest.

Brian walked into the loft ahead of him. Justin silently followed, and then paused just past the threshold. He now seriously wondered if Brian had changed his mind. Should he say something? Ask something? Do something? He wanted to reach out and touch Brian, but was too scared to.

"Shut the door."

The quiet command by Brian gave Justin something to do, and bolstered his flagging confidence. 'Shut the door' wasn't quite the same as 'I think you should leave'. Distracted, Justin had to attempt twice before he managed to shut the heavy steel door to the loft. He turned around and Brian was right behind him, having stripped himself of the leather jacket and the t-shirt that he had been wearing.

Justin didn't realize that he had stopped breathing until his chest constricted and he had to gulp in air through his mouth.

"Justin, if you want to change your mind, you can walk out right now."

"This is where I want to be."

"It's just a fuck, Justin. Your knight in shining armour and love and caring and eternity together; this isn't that. Just because I fuck you doesn't mean -"

"I know that." The fact that Brian had even bothered to consider his feelings, to give him the chance to leave meant more to Justin that Brian could possibly imagine. " _This_ is where I want to be." Justin leaned into Brian, kissing him tentatively.

He felt Brian pull him flush against his body, deepening the kiss. They broke contact for a few short seconds, as Brian yanked Justin's t-shirt over his head. In turn kissing, moaning, tearing off their clothes and touching each other all over, they somehow managed to stagger all the way to Brian's bedroom. To be honest, Justin had no sense of time or space or anything else. For him, at that moment, nothing existed except Brian Kinney. The way he kissed, the way he sucked on Justin's earlobe, the way his tongue drew circles down Justin's chest while his hands played further below...the world stopped existing for Justin beyond the two of them. He was drowning in his own heat.

Somehow, it was different. This time, it was different to all the other times they had kissed and teased and touched. It was different even from what happened in the parking lot less than an hour ago. It was just as passionate and intense and raw, but there was also a strange softness. A softness Justin just instinctively  _knew_ wasn't there when Brian was with others. A softness that came as much from the eyes as it did from the touch.

Justin felt Brian shift his weight, and he realized that he was in Brian's bed, loosely pinned underneath the other man.

"Put your legs up, on my shoulders," Brian instructed him, but actually didn't wait for Justin to move and instead, lifted Justin's legs and placed them exactly where he wanted them.

He watched as Brian reached across to the bedside table, grabbing a packet which he opened with his mouth. It was a condom.

"Put it on me. Go on. Slip it on my dick."

"Brian...I've...I've never done this before..."

"I know. You don't have to be afraid." Brian bent down and kissed him, ever so lightly.

Justin watched as Brian took his hands in Brian's own, and together, they put the condom on. When he felt Brian apply the lube, he gasped involuntarily, the sound being louder than it should, in the silent loft.

"Ah! It's cold!"

"It'll heat up."

Justin nodded mutely.

"Hey. Sunshine. Do you trust me?"

Justin stared into Brian's eyes, getting lost in them. He was falling and falling so far deep that he knew he would never find his way out again. He propped himself on his elbows, reaching upwards to kiss Brian back.

"I trust you. Just ... go slow, okay?"

And they were still kissing, slowly, softly, gently, as Brian entered him and yet, Justin couldn't help but cry out slightly.

"It hurts. Does it always hurt?"

"A little bit. But that's a part of it. The pain becomes the pleasure. Now relax. I want you to always remember this ... so that no matter who you're ever with ... I'll always be there."

Justin knew that, no matter what, Brian  _would_  always be there. And no matter what Brian said, this  _wasn't_  just a fuck.

 


	18. Chapter 18

When Brian woke up, for a moment he thought that Justin had sneaked out of the loft, because the bed was empty. Which surprised him somewhat, because Justin didn't seem like that kind of guy. And then Brian shifted to his side, and through the slats noticed that there was still at least a good hour left until sunrise. He rubbed his groggy eyes before looking at his wristwatch, and it confirmed that it was just a few minutes past 5.00 a.m.

Brian stared at the ceiling, trying to get his bearings right, and it was at that moment that he heard the noise. Well, it wasn't quite noise. It was a voice. Justin's voice. And it was whispering, but when a house is so completely silent, even a voice that is whispering has a tendency to carry.

Of course, what would have been perfect for Brian was that if he could hear  _and_ understand what Justin was saying. But a voice whispering in Latin gave no hopes of comprehension. Well, Brian assumed that it was Latin. He had researched that point thoroughly several weeks ago, and he had no reason not to stick to that notion.

So Brian continued to lie in bed, wondering all kinds of other things. Like, for example, who Justin was speaking to. There were no signs of another person inside the loft. Certainly, there was no second voice. Nevertheless, Justin was clearly having a conversation. Was it on the phone? But as far as Brian knew, Justin didn't own a cell phone. Perhaps Justin was using Brian's phone? Unlikely, but that was the only sensible explanation. And why was he speaking to someone at five in the morning? Perhaps he was speaking to someone in a different time-zone?

It seemed like the mystery that was Justin Taylor would never cease. Brian reflected over the events of the previous evening. He couldn't believe that after all the acrimony, the teasing, the fighting and everything in between, he and Justin had finally had sex. He wondered if Justin seriously wouldn't expect anything more from Brian. Brian couldn't, in all honesty, delude himself into thinking that Justin was going to fall into his one-time only policy. That would be patent nonsense. But. What was it that  _Justin_ wanted?

Speaking of which, what was it that Justin had wanted at _Robbie's_? He was a virgin, and yet, he had been at _Robbie's_ , undoubtedly hooking up with a pimp and looking for customers, entirely dressed for the part.  _Why?_ It couldn't possibly be the need for money; with allies as strong as Vic and Ted, all Justin had to do was go to them. Or Deb. Or even Mel.

 _What_ was the deal with Justin?

 

* * *

 

Justin certainly hadn't been expecting any visitors. He had woken up thirsty, and being unsure as to whether Brian had any water in the bedroom and being unwilling to wake him by searching for it, Justin had quietly padded to the kitchen looking for the needful.

"Aeolus. You're keeping stranger and stranger habits, I see."

Justin had jumped, spilling a mild amount of water over the counter.

"Cuidi! What are you doing here?"

Cuidi looked at him lazily, as Justin frantically mopped up the water. "Being a good friend."

"Shhhhh! You'll wake Brian!"

"I  _would_ wake Brian, except that Brian can't hear me, remember? Unless I want him to, which I particularly don't."

Justin sighed, quelling his panicked feelings. Cuidi was right. The only person here that could wake Brian up was Justin himself. "So, what are you doing here? Did you manage to find out something about Rikert?"

"Not exactly. I'm here with some other information that I thought you'd be interested in. And this seemed like the perfect setting to tell it to you in."

"What is it?"

"Remember I had told you that I heard that a Kinney was being discussed?"

All colour drained from Justin's face. "Brian..."

"No." Cuidi sighed. " _Not_ Brian. Wow, you really have it bad, don't you? It isn't Brian. It's his father."

"What?"

"Jack Kinney. Brian's father. It's cancer. Not too slow, but painful nevertheless. He doesn't have much time left. Jack just found out, so, I'm giving you a heads up to you on your...whatever he is."

The news was so unexpected that it took several seconds for Justin to remember to thank Cuidi.

"Cuidi, thanks a lot. I mean...you didn't have to and...thanks."

Cuidi shrugged. "I'm not going to get into any trouble for telling you, unless you do something  _incredibly_  stupid. And on the topic of incredibly stupid...Aeolus, what are you  _doing?"_

"I'm not going to let Rikert -"

"I'm not talking about Rikert. You're too involved with Kinney junior."

"Cuidi, it's not like that." Justin didn't know why he even bothered putting up a brave front. It was  _exactly_ like that, and everyone knew he was lying when he denied it.

"Yeah, of  _course_  it isn't. Aeolus, you got into trouble with Loki for lying, and now you're going to get into trouble with a human for the selfsame thing. Your charms only work so far, you know."

"I don't think I have much choice other than lying. I mean, what? Am I supposed to tell Brian the truth? He'll have me committed! Not a living soul on this planet will believe me, and I'll be in three times the trouble with Loki for my effort." Justin's tone got decidedly more somber. "Besides, what I am to Brian is considerably different to what he is to me. He doesn't care what I am or where I'm from, so long as I don't pose a threat to the people he cares up."

Cuidi looked at Justin silently for a few minutes. "I don't know, Justin. He's a smart guy, and I can't see any of this ending well for anyone. But right now, I guess the worst ending that's in store is for the soon-to-be departed Jack Kinney, so perhaps you can just worry about him for now."

 

* * *

 

_**At the diner, the next morning** _

 

Justin sighed to himself as he walked back to the counter after serving a table of raucous teenagers. The morning crowd was unusually busy that day. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Brian make (what looked like) small talk with Emmett. In doing so, Justin nearly walked straight into Debbie, who merely raised her eyebrow lightly at him, but spared him any comment.

The morning, thus far, had almost been surreal. Back at the loft, Brian had offered to drop him back at the diner, since that was each of their ultimate destination. There had been no uncomfortable questions, or awkward statements from either of them. What happened had happened, and while Justin had no inkling of what was going through Brian's head, he had rationalized it to himself and there was nothing that needed to be discussed with Brian on that topic. All things considered, he  _had_ been somewhat nervous, and that had given rise to even more nervous chatter than usual. But Brian didn't seem to have minded that; certainly, there was no sign of annoyance whatsoever when Brian had taken a welcome executive decision in the shower. Justin was sure of one thing; even if he never got the chance to be with Brian again, he didn't regret last night for a second. It was arguably the best choice he had made in his entire stay on earth.

Justin stole a glance at Brian once again. How was he to approach the topic of Brian' father? He knew that Brian was on extremely bad terms with Jack Kinney; if Debbie's remarks hadn't been enough to form such an opinion, there had been Claire and Peter who also pretty much cemented the idea.

It didn't matter what the relationship between two people were; everyone wanted a last chance before it was time for the final goodbyes. That final opportunity to give vent to the true feelings that lay buried deep inside, good bad or ugly.

And Justin remembered Brian at Ted's bedside in the hospital. It was an image that would forever be seared in his memory. Brian, of all people, would want that chance. He'd _demand_  it, if he had the opportunity.

And maybe, just maybe, this would give everyone the chance to right past wrongs.

 

* * *

 

He was impressed with Justin. Not just for the blonde's prowess in bed, in an art he was clearly a novice at, but for his ability to not turn into a simpering teenage girl when the sun rose. Brian had decided to save the discussion on midnight conversations in Latin for an opportune time. Justin, for his part, had been mostly cool and calm, and had made no move to search for declarations of undying love, or even to seek an opportunity for a second rendezvous. The boy had obviously been somewhat nervous, yammering away even more than usual, and in spite of himself, Brian had found it...cute?  _no_...he wasn't sure of the word, but it was... _pleasant_. Yes, that was the word. Pleasant.

Brian wondered what would be a good time to grill Justin on his presence at Robbie's. Hoping that he could bring the topic up in conversation, he approached the counter, but was beaten by Melanie, who had made a beeline to Justin. More than slightly curious about any conversation between the two of them, Brian hung about in the vicinity, and was rewarded by being able to eavesdrop successfully.

"Hey kiddo, how are you doing today? I'll have a black coffee to go."

"Hey Mel, I'm doing great. How's Lindz & Gus?"

Brian missed Mel's reply, but it must have been funny, because it elicited a peal of laughter from Justin. Further conversation ensued about the better flavor of muffin and Kiki's mood, and Brian was about to deposit his cash on the counter and walk away when his ears perked up at the words that next flowed from Melanie.

"I don't have much time this morning, but my contact at the precinct got back to me with some info. I really think you're onto something, Justin."

"What is it? Did he...she...did they find out something? Something that...?" Brian noticed the catch in Justin' voice, and the undeniably seriousness in his voice. In both their voices.

"Well, it's just circumstantial. On paper, it doesn't really mean something, but when it comes to Stockwell, I wouldn't trust  _anything._ My gut tells me that there's something here. Listen to this."

Brian heard the rustling of papers, but in trying to appear discreet, he wasn't sure who did what, but Melanie's voice picked up seconds later.

"Debbie discovers Jason Kemp's body on April 11th, 2002. Guess who orders a stop on the inquest on Kemp? Stockwell. Now why the hell would the Chief of Police give a flying fuck about some nameless hustler found behind a queerville diner?"

"Because he has something to hide. People refuse to ask the right questions only when they know what the answer is going to be."

Melanie's voice rose an octave in response. " _Exactly._ And why would Stockwell be so afraid of the answer? But there's more. Stockwell stops the inquest on May 14th, just over a month since Jason's body was discovered. Five days later, who do you suppose tendered his resignation?"

"Rikert," Justin and Melanie chorused together, in identical tones.

Who the fuck is Rikert, Brian wondered.

Melanie continued. "May 19th. Rikert resigns. 15 years of being Stockwell's partner and years before retirement, he resigns. Why? Jason Kemp?"

"Mel..."

"Justin, I've got your back. Whatever help you need. You're the only one who knows the real story here. Let's nail this motherfucker. Whatever it takes. Tell me what you need."

There was a pause of two seconds before Brian heard Justin's voice.

"I'm working on it, Mel. I'm working on it. I may have a lead I stumbled onto last night. I found Jason's pimp. Mel, if you can, I need to get my hands on a phone. Nothing fancy; I wouldn't know how to use anything fancy anyway. I just need a way to be contacted without Deb or anyone at the diner finding out. I don't want them involved in this."

Brian was surprised to hear Melanie acquiesce almost immediately. "I'll get you something. Some pay-as-go piece of crap that they won't be able to trace back to you. I have to get going now, but -"

At that point, Brian gave his fare to a passing waiter - probably Kiki, though it didn't register in his mind - and he walked out. He had heard enough, and it was almost unnecessary now to question Justin about his presence at _Robbie's_.

_I may have a lead I stumbled onto last night. I found Jason's pimp._

How was Stockwell involved in any of this?

_15 years of being Stockwell's partner_

Brian had a dozen questions of his own, and was infuriated by the fact that he had no one to ask them from. As he took a step outside, the wind hit him in the face, forcing him to calm down for a moment and reorient himself. If Justin -

"Brian!"

He turned around, and found Justin a few feet away.

"Justin." Of course, there must have been four dozen better responses, but for some reason, Brian's brain was unable to come up with any.

"I saw you...you heard our conversation. Melanie and my conversation, that is."

"It certainly saves me the need to ask you what you were doing at Robbie's last night. You were tracking down some man you think killed Jason -"

"He  _did_ kill Jason. I  _know_ it."

The ferocity in Justin's voice surprised Brian. There was no doubt that Justin believed what he was saying, and Brian knew Justin too well to think that the blonde was liable to be taken by flights of fancy. Something just took a turn for the very sinister and very dangerous, and Brian felt goose bumps breaking out, despite the weather.

"Sunshine, who is Rikert?" Brian tried to keep his voice even and open, silently asking Justin to trust him.

Justin took a step closer to him, seemingly involuntarily. "He was Stockwell's partner in the police force for 15 years, until Stockwell moved up, on his way to becoming the big chief. Brian...I know that...I know you won't back away from working on Stockwell's campaign, but he's a bad person. Not in just a homophobic, racist way, but in...he's genuinely a bad person. He's involved in Jason's death. At least in covering it up. Don't taint yourself by working for him. Please."

"How do you know this?"

Justin shook his head and looked down. "I can't tell you."

Brian felt a familiar wave of frustration and anger sweep over him, which he tried to brush aside. "Of  _course_  you can't. So you think it's smarter for you try and track a possible - "

Seeing Justin's head snap up and his eyes blazing, Brian changed his word. "You think it's smarter for you to try and track a killer yourself? You could be next. Did you stop to think about that?"

"I'm the only one who knows, Brian. I'm the only one who can bring Rikert to justice. I'm the only one who's willing to try."

"Justin -"

"It doesn't matter. The risk to me doesn't matter. Jason is dead because of me. I'll do anything to see Rikert brought to justice."

"Your life isn't worth it sacrificing over a principle."

"If you believe in something strongly enough, you have to be willing to sacrifice everything."

The two of them stood there, staring at each other, unable to say anything, for what seemed like an eternity. Spurred on by an impulse that he couldn't explain, Brian put his arm around Justin's neck, pulling him closer and kissing him. It wasn't a soft kiss, and it wasn't harsh. It was intense, in a soft way that words couldn't quite describe.

Brian pulled away eventually, and took a step back, turning around and forcing himself to move on with the day that lay ahead of him.

"Brian."

Unsure of what to expect, Brian turned to Justin.

"You should go see your father."

It was the last thing on earth Brian had expected to hear from  _anyone_. "What?"

"Your father. I think you should go speak to him. As soon as possible."

"What bullshit is this?"

"Brian.  _Please_. I would never ask anything of you. I  _will_ never ask anything of you. I promise. I can't explain it...I just...you need to go see your father. Please don't delay it. Please. I promise, I will never ask you for anything else.  _Ever._ "

 


	19. Chapter 19

It was early afternoon when Brian walked in, taking both Justin and Debbie by surprise. Justin hadn't seen Brian since their conversation outside the diner the previous day, and by Brian's stoic face, it was difficult to judge what he was thinking or what had brought him to Debbie's at such an hour. The fact that he had Gus in his arms only made the situation even more perplexing.

Debbie, for her part, was still clearly feeling animosity towards Brian over the Michael-David fiasco, because she merely raised her eyebrows at him. She couldn't, however, help herself from cooing over Gus.

"Hey Deb."

That put an end to the cooing. Debbie mumbled a non sequitor.

Justin watched curiously. Had Brian come to see him, or to see Deb, or for some other incomprehensible reason? He was hoping for the former, but expecting the latter.

"Mikey's birthday is round the corner."

Debbie shot Justin a look of annoyed exasperation before she turned to Brian. "So it is. Sunshine, I'm going to go make sure that Vic has taken his meds."

"Must be difficult."

There was something in Brian's voice. Not a quiver, but a somber _something._ Justin waited in wary anticipation. Debbie stopped in her tracks, her demeanor immediately softening in concern.

"Difficult?" Debbie was waiting; waiting for Brian to open up about whatever had brought him to her home.

Justin, one step ahead of Debbie, wondered if he should discreetly leave. Then he thought of aiding Brian practically by relieving him of Gus. Justin was anticipating a long conversation between Brian and Debbie. But when he went to take Gus, Brian was instinctively resistant, releasing Gus only after a noticeable pause.

I keep misreading him, Justin thought.

"Yeah, difficult, you know, with Vic, the meds, knowing that…"

"Oh honey, you haven't…when did you…" Debbie stood rooted to the spot, fear and shock evident in her eyes, voice all compassion.

"Nope. The old man. Cancer. Not much longer now." Brian's voice was flat.

"Brian, sweetheart, I'm so sorry. When did he find out? Are they sure that…?"

"He told me last night. Nothing to be sorry about, Deb. We both know what an asshole he was."

"You don't have to –"

"But that's not why I dropped by." Brian cut her off. "I'm going to throw Mikey a surprise party. Next Saturday. My place."

Justin and Debbie exchanged silent looks in the face of the confusion that was Brian Kinney.

Brian continued, oblivious. "I thought that Justin here could help with the planning. Well?"

 

* * *

 

"How did you know?"

Brian wasn't interested in beating around the bush, so as soon as he managed to get rid of Debbie via Gus, he came right to the point.

Justin shrugged, and seemed inordinately interested in picking out paper plates.

"Well?"

"I…um…I saw your dad leaving the oncology department".

"You saw my father leaving the oncology department?" Brian repeated, like a parrot.

"Yup, at Allgheny General."

"You saw my father at hospital, and you knew it was my father, without ever having seen him in your entire life. Hell, even I barely remember what he looks like."

Justin looked at him finally, with a mildly disapproving look. However, he spoke with renewed animation. "I was with Vic. He went to see a friend, and I joined him, and he pointed out your dad out when he saw him."

Brian's eyebrow met his hairline. "Oh, so Vic was with you now, was he?"

"Yup. He thought we shouldn't mention anything to you, and I thought so too, but then I thought about it and changed my mind."

"Did you speak to someone, perhaps, who helped you change your mind?" Brian was thinking about the strange conversation he had overheard when Justin had been over at the loft.

"Huh?"

"Oh, never mind." It was entirely useless to expect Justin to speak the truth, and if Vic was his alibi, Brian would have no hope of finding out anything. He pushed the trolley forward, making plans for the evening instead.

"So…how did it go? With your dad, I mean?"

It was Brian's turn to shrug. "He's got cancer. I'm gay. Naturally, therefore, I should be the one dying."

Justin gasped. "Oh Brian, he couldn't have meant that! He's just angry; people who are dying usually are, and they take it out on anyone around them. Give him a little time to process – "

"He has all the time in the world. I want nothing at all do with the fucker."

"Brian! Listen –"

"No, you listen. He was a fucking miserable prick for as long as I can remember. It's about time he kicked the bucket. This is joyous news to you too, Sunshine - one less vote for Stockwell. Now, we have a party to organize. Isn't that exciting?"

"Compartmentalizing and then ignoring your emotions is not the best way to deal with them, you know."

"Dr. Freud, how I have missed you! Quack psychology is always _so_ much fun!"

Justin rolled his eyes. "Actually, Dr. Freud isn't the one you should be –"

"No no no no no. No. Today is not a day I'm in the mood to humour your historical ramblings." He pulled Justin towards him, and strength and the element of surprise meant that Justin was against his chest in no time. "What I am in the mood for, is…" he nipped at Justin's neck "mmmm, such soft skin…."

"Ugh, so disgusting, what this country is coming to! Now they're moving the filth from the alleys to supermarkets!"

Brian turned his head just in time to see the slightly overweight woman brush past him. As his brain searched for the most appropriate insult, Justin had pushed his way to stand in front of the woman.

_Oh_ _no,_ Brian thought. _Here we go._

"Ma'am, were you just alluding to my boyfriend and I when you spoke about filth?"

Brian cringed. The woman, for her part, seemed embarrassed.

"This is a family-friendly area. You should keep such behaviour for more appropriate places," she huffed.

"With respect, ma'am, we were merely being affectionate. Is it the public display of affection that offends you, or the fact that we are two men?"

As much as he wanted to hit Justin for the boyfriend comment, Brian couldn't help smiling at how gutsy Justin was.

"Look, what you people want to do in your bedrooms –"

"Is none of your business," Brian cut in. "Isn't that right? Seeing as how neither of us are sleeping with you. I believe the question was whether it was the public display of affection that offended you, or whether it is the fact that we are two men. Feel free to be honest; bigots don't faze us."

Now Brian was sure that the woman was actually turning purple.

"I just think it's unnatural. It's so sinful."

Justin peeked into her trolley. "I think those shrimps are also considered sinful. And your blouse…polyester. That's unnatural as well. Is that a packet of Benadryl? Isn't that unnatural as well? And your eye shadow? _Definitely_ unnatural. I would love to argue this point with you, but, my boyfriend and I have other things to do. But, before we leave, I just want to tell you that I am as human as you are. And all humans are part of nature; that makes me as natural as you. I hope you find it within yourself to hate a little less. I think I'm done, Brian. Let's go."

 

* * *

  


"I am _not_ your boyfriend."

"I didn't hear you deny it."

"You wanted me to deny it in front of that fat bitch?"

Justin smiled. "Nice to know that you do have a list of values."

"Don't flatter yourself."

"You kissed me, you want me to come over and spend the evening with you, and you didn't deny that I was your boyfriend. Why shouldn't I flatter myself?"

Brian glared at him, but then the expression turned to one of curiosity when Justin didn't enter the jeep.

"Aren't you coming?"

"Actually, there's somewhere I have to be tonight."

There was a few seconds of silence until knowledge dawned on Brian's face. Justin looked down. He was not looking forward to what was bound to come.

"Let me guess – _Robbie's._ Is Gino waiting for you?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. It's not what you think."

"So you're _not_ hunting for Jason Kemp's killer?"

Justin sighed. He had forgotten part of his conversation with Brian the previous day.

"Brian, I have to."

"Even if it'll kill you?"

"Jason is dead because of me. I thought I was doing the right thing, I thought I was helping him, and instead, I led him straight to Rikert."

"What are you _talking_ about?"

"I…I knew Jason." Which wasn't a complete lie. "He tried to kill himself and I stopped him." Again, not a complete lie. "Instead, he got picked up by Rikert, who killed him. Nothing is more important than seeing justice done."

"You little fool, he'll kill you too; don't you see that?"

Justin pushed his chin out stubbornly. "It's worth whatever I have to sacrifice."

There was a moment's silence, which was followed by a long sigh from Brian.

"Ok, here's the plan. Tonight, you get in the jeep, you come to the loft, and you let me fuck your brains out. And for the rest of this week, you stay away from _Robbie's_ , and help put Michael's party together. Next week, you can start stalking your Rikert. And I'll be right behind you, to make sure that you don't end up face down in a dumpster too. Deal?"

Suddenly, Justin's heart was beating a lot faster than he thought was normal. A _lot_ faster.

"Deal."

 


	20. Chapter 20

No one said that birthday parties were fun. Clowns weren't fun. Tail-less donkeys weren't fun. Sleepovers without enough room to sleep in weren't fun. Growing old wasn't fun. And without a doubt, helping Mikey let go was _not_ going to be fun.

The loft, as always looked spectacular. It had helped that Justin had impeccable taste, and also, ever eager to help, Lindsay had appeared earlier than invited. Everything ended up falling into place, in spite of Brian being held back at work due to yet another guerrilla marketing tactic by Justin (the whole city had woken up to anti-Stockwell messages being shoved inside bottles – on their way to be recycled, doubtless – and floating in every waterway in Pittsburgh). Who was helping Justin? How on earth was a penniless, nameless nobody pulling off stunts like this?

Brian shook his head. Tonight, he had more important theatrics to perform. He was not going to let Stockwell – or Justin – distract him from that. Speaking of which, where the fuck was –

The thought was cut short as there was a knock at the door.

Mikey was bound to suspect something, given that the entire loft was pitch black, but there hadn't been much choice on that count.

"Hi, we're here and we're ready to go to Babylon!" Michael was just too…normal? Chirpy?

Brian's eyes went from Michael's face to that of Ted and Emmet. "Assholes. You told him. Do I have to do everything myself?" Brian yanked open the door wider and pulled Michael in.

Someone – again, off cue – switched on a light.

"Surprise!"

Michael's eyes almost fell out of his face. "Who _are_ all those people?"

"Well, if I invited just your friends, it would have been six people here. I had to open it up to sex partners..."

"I haven't have slept with any of these peoples!" Michael stuttered.

" _My_ sex partners. Happy birthday, Mikey." Keeping to the plan, Brian gave Michael a bright smile and a chaste kiss.

"Oh happy birthday sweetheart!" Debbie started the line of wishes and kisses and Brian made his way to the bar, which Justin seemed to manning.

"Beam."

"What is it that you are planning exactly?" Justin was looking at him seriously.

"Christ, you take all the sting out of a drink. Who put you in charge of the bar? I think you should manage the presents." Brian slightly shoved Justin in the appropriate direction.

"So? What are you planning?"

The blonde was relentless.

"What makes you think I'm planning anything other than a party?"

"Because this smells like a set-up. You're too cheery and not nearly sarcastic enough. Also, because I see David walking towards Michael."

 _Excellent._ Everything was on schedule.

"Brian? Did you hear me? You _knew_ they had broken up."

"Relax, Sunshine. I'm sure that they agreed to remain friends. What's a birthday party without friends?"

They covered ground, and were close enough for David to hand over his present to Justin.

"Wow, this really is a surprise party."

David smiled and Michael, and Brian felt more than saw Justin's romantic little heart melting. Brian and Justin stood, a little to the side, while Michael and David exchanged nervous small talk.

"C'mon, Mikey, you have presents."

 

* * *

 

What Brian was up to was anybody's guess, but, without a doubt, he was up to _something._

"Margarita, no salt."

Justin smiled at Melanie. "Coming right up."

"Hey, how do you know how to mix drinks?"

"Ted and Emmet taught me."

"Justin, the message-in-a-bottle today was great! How on earth did you manage that?"

"I can't let you in on all my secrets, can I?"

Melanie smiled. "True…listen, sweetie, I'm really worried about you going after Rikert. That guy has so many reprimands and suspensions for excessive use of violence…Justin, it's just too dangerous, no matter how wrong it feels to let him get away with this…"

Melanie and Brian had no idea how similar they were sometimes.

"Mel, I'm not going to let this go, but don't worry…I will be safe. Nothing will happen to me. Come on, this is all so morbid, let's go watch Michael open his presents. I'm afraid I got him just a t-shirt that Ted said he'd like."

"Don't worry, I'm sure Michael will love it. Ooops wait…okay, got my margarita. Now we can go."

There were quite a few people who had formed a haphazard circle around Michael, who was opening his gifts. It's like some kind of ritual, Justin thought.

"Oh my god! An Easy-Bake Oven. I always want one of those. Thanks, Em. I love it."

"A _what?_ " Justin hissed at Melanie. "Is that like a mini-oven?"

Melanie opened her mouth, and then seemed to decide against it. "Never mind, Justin. Point is Michael liked it."

When Justin looked back to the 'ritual', Ted was guffawing, Brian was rolling his eyes and pretty much everyone else was silent.

"It _is_ funny." Michael said, and even Justin could tell that he was just trying to be kind.

"Moving on." Brian said, as he shoved another gift into Michael's hands.

"Who is it from?" Michael was already attacking the wrapping paper, which Justin recognized from earlier.

David responded quietly "Oh, that's from me."

"Oh my…" Melanie whispered to Justin. "That watch looks obscenely expensive. Oh to be single and childless and brimming with money. And time."

Justin glanced and Melanie, but didn't say anything. Clearly, there was a story.

"This is... this is really..." Michael seemed to be at a loss for words.

Debbie, on the other, was not. "Expensive," she stated. Her meaning wasn't lost on anybody.

David smiled genially. "I knew you didn't have one of these…it's focused on the water proof features."

Michael smiled and David, and for a moment, Justin shared Debbie's hope. Just for a moment. Until Brian spoke.

"Hey, Mikey. Someone is here to see you."

Brian stepped aside to reveal a man in a weird, garish costume. Who would wear their underwear inside-out, Justin thought. The crowd seemed to find the whole thing delightful though, because they were all whistling or clapping, or both.

"Am I missing something? What…who…what is that?"

Before Melanie answered, Justin recognized the creature as the very same one on the curtains and bedspread in his room. Obviously, he was missing something.

"That's Captain Astro." Ted had somehow materialized next to them.

"Trust Brian to outdo everyone," Melanie added.

"I heard it was your birthday, so I thought I'd fly by and bring you something special."

"Is he going to do a skit?" Justin asked, but Melanie shook her head. Then Justin noticed Captain Astro hand Michael something.

"Oh my _GOD_ , Captain Astro! _Astro Comics Number One!?_ This is the first appearance of Captain Astro in print. Do you know how much it's worth?!"

"Anything for my best friend."

Justin, Ted and Melanie rolled their eyes in unison.

Michael practically leaped into Brian, engulfing him in a massive hug. "I can't believe it. I never thought I find it."

Was this Brian's plan, Justin wondered. Seemed unlikely. Such an elaborate set up for a mere gift? That could have been done on the way to Babylon. He sighed. The thought that more shenanigans were due was not a happy one.

"This calls for another margarita. You might have to whip up something stronger for poor ol' Dave. And Debbie." Melanie linked one arm through Justin's, and another through Ted's arm. Clearly, the margarita was having the desired effect on her.

On their way back to the bar, they stopped by David, who was about to be consoled by Debbie.

"It's a beautiful watch, David, and a beautiful thought," Melanie offered.

"Thanks."

"Michael _will_ grow up one day. I know it."

Justin wasn't sure if Ted's comment was meant to console David or Debbie.

By the time they made it to the bar, Brian was there, mixing himself a drink. The margarita seemed to have dulled Melanie's senses, because Ted was easily able to beat her into making the opening salvo.

"Nice going on the gift. Couldn't have been more perfect."

"Why thank you, Theodore."

"Yeah, David's present didn't stand a chance. But then again, neither did he, right?"

"Fuck off!" Brian didn't seem his usual self.

"Ouch," Melanie mumbled, but only Justin heard her.

Ted was seething. "You just can't help yourself, can you? You have to make sure that Michael regresses permanently to the age of twelve. He's thirty, for Christ's sake, Brian. Don't you think it's time you let him go?"

Brian paused to take a long swig from whatever he had mixed for himself. "Well, I'll tell you what. I will, if you will."

"What?" three voices chorused.

Brian was speaking only to Ted. "Tell him that you've been in love with him for years."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what I mean! The boys saw your pictures. They saw your little shrine to Mikey when you were in your coma, before you latched onto Blondie over here. Of course, I always knew. So, like I said, you let him go and so will I. Ladies first."

Ted looked at Brian for what seemed an eternity, shook his head and started walking away in the direction of the dance floor.

"God, it must piss you off," Melanie said, finally managing to be articulate.

"What the fuck now?" Brian growled.

"It fucking pisses you fucking off, that other people can love Michael. 'Fraid that Michael will wake up one day and realise that other people love him and he has options other than you?"

"You're toasted, Melanie. You have no idea what you're babbling about. Besides, who do you think found Ted's shrine? Good old Mikey."

"I maybe toasted, but yeah I do. You hate me because Lindsay realised she had options other than worshipping at your altar. Michael may have passed on Ted, but he won't pass up everyone who comes his way. One of these days, you'll be looking the other way and do busy fucking some trick to notice that you need to bribe him with a comic book. Abandonment issues much, Brian?" Melanie sighed, taking a break from her tirade. "Justin, do you think you could mix another margarita for me?"

When Justin was done making the margarita, Brian had disappeared. However, he spotted Ted speaking to Michael near where the TV used to be.

Melanie seemed to have noticed the same thing. "You curious as I am?"

Against his better judgement, Justin found himself nodding.

For a drunk woman, Melanie linked her arm with Justin quite adeptly before heading surreptitiously heading towards Michael. Justin wondered briefly as to where Lindsay was all evening, and then he spotted her nursing Gus and chatting to Debbie. _Who brings a baby to these kinds of parties?_

"…part of us that thinks that we don't deserve to be loved," Ted was saying.

"What are you talking about?"

"Let me finish…So, we fall in love with someone that we know we can't have and who's never going to love us. And, we fantasize about the day when all of a sudden he realizes what he's been missing, and all of our dreams come true. Only, that day never comes, and before you know it, it's your fortieth birthday, it's your fiftieth, and you're still alone. Don't let that happen to you, Michael. Love someone for real. Someone who will love you back."

If Michael responded to Ted, neither Justin nor Melanie heard it. All they saw was Ted and Michael share a long, strong hug.

"I guess Ted _did_ do it," Melanie said.

" _Oh my god!"_

Justin, Melanie and Ted all followed Michael's horrified gaze to see a brunette standing at the landing near the door, looking uncertain.

Ted and his talk completely forgotten, Michael was making a mad dash across the room.

"Who is that?" Justin asked.

"C'mon c'mon, only one way to find out!" Melanie was dragging Justin along, following in Michael's footsteps.

"Tracy, what are you doin' here?"

 _Who was Tracy?_ The name sounded vaguely familiar.

"Happy birthday, Mike," Tracy said.

"Mike?" Melanie said, now longer able to quite whisper.

"Thanks…" he gestured at the crowd behind him. "It's really wild back there…they're all a little drunk. I really…I only know six of them." Poor Michael seemed extremely uncomfortable.

Tracy was talking at the same time. "You're friend Brian called me. He invited me."

Michael had taken Tracy's arm at this point. "Look, are you hungry? There is this great burger place we could go to…"

"Tracy, I'm sooo happy that you could make it to Mikey's surprise party! Let me introduce you to some of our guests."

"Oh fuck," Melanie said, as Brian appeared next to Tracy.

Brian grabbed Tracy's hand and led her onto the dance floor, and Michael, Justin and Melanie all scurried behind him. Much to Michael's bad luck, he was waylaid by Vic, who was completely oblivious to what was going on.

"David." Brian interrupted David's dance with some unrecognizable person. "David, this is Tracy. Tracy, this is David."

"Tracy…yeah, we've met." If anyone looked as uncomfortable as Michael, it was David.

"Right," Tracy chirruped. "You're Mike's chiropractor."

Brian giggled. "He's also Mike's boyfriend. Oh excuse me, ex-boyfriend."

Tracy stared from Brian to David, incomprehension clearly written all over her face.

"Brian! Brian shut UP!" Michael made it by then but it was obvious that the damage was done.

Brian was on a roll. "You know, the first time they fucked, Michael came like, three times."

Justin's eyes widened in horror as David's fist made contact with Brian's in the face.

Tracy had apparently left the loft because Michael was running after somebody.

"Don't go yet, Mikey, you even haven't had your cake!" That line came from the floor, where Brian had landed.

Michael turned around, managed a "Fuck off!" before he continued after Tracy.

The music continued to play but the party had clearly paused. Everyone stood shock-still.

Justin untangled himself from Melanie's arm, and made his way to the fridge, trying his hardest not to digest anything that happened.

 _Stupid, idiotic Brian. Was there no better way to let Michael go, instead of this heartbreaking spectacle?_ Justin didn't know if he felt sorrier for Michael, Brian or Tracy.

When he walked back to Brian, ice pack in hand, Brian was sniffing some white powder off the counter. Ted and Emmett stood nearby, looking thoroughly disgusted. Melanie was nowhere in sight.

"Hey, look what I hooked up for this special occasion." Justin followed Brian's gaze, and comment, to notice Michael standing a few feet away, glowering at Brian.

"I wanna get out of here. David? How about you?"

Apparently, David was somewhere in the vicinity.

"Sure."

"Hey buddy, your gift…" Captain Astro was holding up the comic.

"I don't want it," Michael responded. He looked towards Brian. "Thanks for the party," he practically spat out, before stalking off with David.

"Well, Brian, you really know how to throw a birthday bash," Ted deadpanned.

"Too bad all good things must come to an end," Emmett said, and at the sight of Melanie weaving towards Brian, he took Ted's elbow and hurried him in the direction of the door.

"Well, well, well. Is anyone surprised? Is there anyone here tonight who hasn't been fucked by Brian Kinney in one way or another?"

"Well, what do you know? Now Michael has been, too." Justin looked at Vic, who was standing with coats in hand, next to Debbie.

"Fuck you, Brian. We're leaving." Debbie walked out of the loft much in the manner Michael had.

Justin stole a look at Brian; his bravado seemed to have disappeared, and was looking at the departing crowd wearily.

"How could you have done it to him, Brian? Your best friend in the whole world."

"Honey, we're leaving. Come on." Melanie tugged at Lindsay, who was standing in front Brian, waiting, incredibly, for an answer.

As the two women, Gus in tow, walked out, Brian's gaze rested on Justin.

"Well? Aren't you going to make your big exit, too? We know that you're _never_ short of speeches."

Justin gingerly placed the ice pack, which he had managed to wrap in a dishcloth, on Brian's cheek. "No. You're going to need someone to help you clean up this mess."


	21. Chapter 21

"Honestly, Brian, I really _am_ busy."

"Busy doing what? You have no friends, and your shift is over. What, sex suddenly too boring for you?"

Justin rolled his eyes. He could see Emmett smirking in the next booth. Brian's childish petulance would have been funny, if it hadn't become an everyday routine, ever since his fight with Michael.

"You must really be missing Michael."

"Would you shut the fuck up about him?"

Justin rolled his eyes. "I only brought up his name just now. I bet you're secretly wishing that the phone would ring, and it would be him."

"Why the fuck would I want that to happen?"

"Because he's your best friend? Because you miss him? Because you should never have done what you did?" Justin could have listed even more reasons, but he chose not to.

"I said shut the fuck up! His life was just going to hang there like some shirt in a closet that you never wear."

"So, you pushed him away."

"It was the only curse of action."

"Really? Now he hates you. That's not the answer, Brian."

"It's okay. As long as Mikey's happy."

"You must be delusional, if you believe that. I'm on to you, Brian Kinney. I don't think even you believe that. Anyway, as I was saying, I have to take Soli for a walk, and bathe her as well."

Justin lowered his voice. "I also have a killer to find _and_ an election campaign to derail. I'm really sorry Brian, but I can't come out with you tonight."

"You can bring your friend. We can have a threesome." Brian apparently hadn't heard a word Justin had just said.

"What friend? You just said I didn't _have_ any friends."

"The one you keep speaking to in Latin, whenever you think I'm asleep."

_Fuck._

Justin had never dreamt that Brian had ever heard his conversations with Daphne, Cuidi or Gwenhwyfar.

"So, I've been told that we're supposed to share friends. I think you should share your Latin friend with us. He's a priest isn't he?"

"A…huh? Brian, I don't…" Justin was completely at a loss how to explain himself.

"What, he _isn't_ a priest? Some old, grizzled, professor then? And here I thought only Mikey went for the geriatrics."

"David isn't a geriatric. You know, you should give Michael a call…see how he is doing."

"Fuck that. He's happy playing wifey to the good doctor now. I wanna know about your priest."

"I have tables to clean, and a dog to wash, AND I have no idea what you're talking about."

With that, Justin made his exit. He was truly running out of excuses.

 

* * *

 

Playing at Babylon was no fun alone. And Ted and Emmett could get pretty boring, pretty quick. Scrabble with Melanie and Lindsay had already become incredibly dull.

That's how Brian found himself stalking…no….following?…no, 'keeping an eye on' Justin.

It was infuriating, the amount of time Justin thought necessary to spend with that dog. The better part the evening was spent walking with Soli, feeding Soli, washing Soli (that was actually a relief) and, again, walking with Soli.

Stranger still was the time Justin spent babbling to Soli. Of course, Brian kept a healthy distance, so he couldn't hear much of the monologue, but he heard enough to determine that Justin was talking to the dog in Latin. Because that was such a _normal_ thing to do.

Things then got decidedly weirder. After washing Soli, Justin and she commenced their second walk. That followed the same pattern as earlier. Then, Brian found himself following them into a park, quite under the cover of darkness at this point. Justin sat on a swing, and stopped his yammering long enough for Soli to whimper a little, and then she too became quiet, and rolled on her back instead.

Then Justin started speaking again, but this time, it was clearly a conversation. Justin would speak, then pause, wait, as if for an answer, and then speak again. It was so _obviously_ a conversation with another person.

But, as far as Brian could see, there wasn't another soul at the park. It was just Justin, Soli and Brian himself. So who the fuck was Justin talking to?

Maybe he was on his cell phone?

To be certain, Brian called Justin. Only to hear Justin's phone ring, have Justin actually pull his phone out of his pocket to look at it, and ignore it.

So.

What the fuck was going on?

 

* * *

 

"Who knew that Brian could feel bad? I feel sorry for him. He really seems to miss Michael."

Daphne smiled. "That's actually kind of cute. What about Michael? Does he miss Brian as well?"

"Hmmm…I'm not sure." Justin paused to think. "Michael's sure been a lot nicer to me; I'm not sure if that's because he's got Brian out of his system or if it's David's influence or what. I think he _must_ miss Brian. I mean, they've been friends for so long…I feel bad for Michael too. Can you imagine how awful he must be feeling?"

"In a way. But humans ask to be treated in a certain way, often, by their own behaviour. I don't know how many signs we're supposed to give to them that they don't exist in a vacuum. Back to your life – I have an idea."

"About Rikert?"

Daphne wrinkled her nose. "I thought we were discussing Michael and Brian! Oli, you're such a nut. I have an idea about Michael and Brian. Why don't you get them back together? That way, amongst other things, Brian will be off your back long enough for you to actually concentrate on Rikert."

"Me? How can _I_ patch things up between Michael and Brian?"

"You're sleeping with Brian, and you live with Michael's mother. You have access to both of them. Tell them both that they're being idiots."

"Humans are very strange, Daphne. They don't seem to accept anything that is told to them, no matter how correct it is. Especially Brian. I already tried to speak to him…he will _not_ admit that he misses Michael, and he is too proud to do anything."

"Well, this Brian sounds strange in more ways than one…why don't you just speak to Michael, who seems to be the one who is more emotionally mature?"

Justin smiled. "That's a great idea; I think I know exactly how I'm going to do that. And with Brian occupied, I will have time to work on Rikert. And listen, I designed some more leaflets that we…you guys…can drop, as soon as I'm able to go and get the copies made…I have to travel further this time, because the last one made it to the news in all kinds of places!"

"I was thinking about that too…and I have an idea that will make things easier. Cuidi's powers are stronger than mine; he can get you into City Hall after it is closed by opening it from the inside. You can make the copies there! It is kind of spending public funds for your personal cause, but ultimately, it's for the good of everyone in this city."

"Daphne, you're awesome!"

 

* * *

 

_**The next day, at the diner** _

 

Justin grabbed a soda, and the printed drawing story that Brian had bought Michael for his birthday, deciding that the time was perfect for a break. And for implementing secret plans. He went to Emmett, Ted and Michael, who were seated in one of the booths.

"…for eternal forgiveness?" Emmett was saying. He scooted over to make space for Justin.

"Brian doesn't do apologies." Michael chewed on the end of his straw, before turning his attention to a french fry.

Emmett frowned. "Well, he should after what he did."

"It's too late. He pushed too hard, and now the game is over. But it's ok. _I'm_ ok. I'm happy."

"But wouldn't you be happier if Brian was in your life?"

Michael glared at Justin. "No."

"And, you forgot this at the party…" Justin slid the gift across the table towards Michael.

"I told him already I don't want his crummy present."

"You know, he misses you. He's miserable without you."

"I can vouch for that," Emmett piped.

Michael huffed. "Good, he deserves to be."

"He loves you. He'll never admit it, but he does."

Michael rolled his eyes. "Oh please. Brian doesn't love anyone. He doesn't believe in love, remember?"

"You don't believe that, do you? Honestly? He loves you. And Lindsay and Gus. That's why he hurt you, so you'd go back with David. He knew if he didn't, you'd be waiting for him forever.

"That's bullshit."

"Is it? This was his way of saying goodbye. Anyway, I gotta go. I think my break is over."

 

* * *

 

_**Later that evening, at Babylon** _

 

Brian watched the crowd dance. Ted was drooling in some corner, trying his luck on a man Brian had rejected.

Brian narrowed his eyes. Was that Michael?

Just in case he wasn't hallucinating, Brian turned his back on the image of Michael, and tried to concentrate on the row of bottles in front of him. Until there was a tap on his back. He reluctantly turned around. It _was_ Michael.

"What are you doing here? You're married now."

"I guess I still look."

"Yeah, well, what's the good of looking if you can't touch? Want a beer?"

Michael shrugged. "Sure." He cleared his throat. "I never thanked you for my gift..."

Brian frowned. "Your gift?"

"Your blonde boy wonder insisted it that I take it."

"Yeah, well, I'll have to punish him severely for that".

"It was the coolest thing I ever had," Michael said, smiling.

"I thought so."

"You wanna dance? It's weird not talking to you."

Brian shrugged nonchalantly. "I never thought about that."

Michael raised his eyebrow. "I heard you were freaking out."

"Yeah, who told you that?"

"Everybody - Lindsay, Justin..."

Well, they're all pathological liars, I wouldn't trust them." Apparently, Brian's friends were smarter than he gave them credit for.

Michael laughed, grabbing Brian's wrist and dragging him onto the dance floor. "You are so busted!"

 

* * *

 

_**Even later that evening** _

 

He saw Justin only by accident. Brian had dropped Michael off at David's, and was driving back home. Not his usual route. That was when he saw Soli sitting patiently outside a building. Brian parked the jeep, and stepped outside. He immediately recognised the building – City Hall. Except this was the back entrance, marked "For Deliveries Only".

He scanned the area, and saw Justin standing next to a metal door. "Authorised Personnel Only" the sign on the door read. Suddenly, without the aid of a key, Justin tugged on the door, which opened, and he crept inside, taking Soli inside with him.

Brian had to sprint across to the door, but it was closed solid by the time he got there.

What was Justin doing?

It was over two hours before Justin exited the building, Soli in tow. Not just Soli, but also with two huge garbage bags, which he placed outside with Soli.

And then, the incredible happened. The door opened on its own, with no assistance from Justin. Justin then held the door open, as several more bags, including a familiar rucksack, magically moved from inside the building to across the road. Just floating, in midair.

Brian watched in amazement.

_WHAT. THE. FUCK._

Before he knew it, Justin and Soli were across the road, next to the heap of bags.

What were they waiting for?

Brian watched, mouth agape.

His question was answered in about twenty minutes. They were, apparently, waiting for Vic, who was driving Debbie's car, into which the bags were loaded.

What the hell was going on?

 

* * *

 

_**The next day** _

 

There was no way Brian could _not_ be grouchy, even if he and Michael were back to being friends.

First, there was the bizarre incident involving Justin the previous night. Brian had finally come to the conclusion that he must have consumed a lot more alcohol than he had given himself credit for, because there was no other way to explain what he saw. Objects did _not_ just float midair. They certainly could not float from one place to another.

Nevertheless, it did not change the fact that Justin had been breaking and entering into City Hall in the middle of the night, _with the knowledge and apparent consent of Vic,_ and leaving with a lot more that he went in with.

There was something just not right with Justin. Brian could no longer pretend it didn't matter. It was far more than just working against his campaign for Stockwell. There was too much about Justin that wasn't adding up.

He spoke Latin, in this day and age.

He openly acknowledged lying about having amnesia.

He knew Jason Kemp. And Jason Kemp's killer, even though police investigations had come up with zilch.

He organised leaflet drops from midair and broke into state buildings.

He knew about Jack having cancer.

It wasn't just the lies; it was the fact that there were no plausible explanations for any of it.

"You know, I never knew that my family is actually Nordic…I just…I don't know what I thought, actually."

Brian looked up from his cup of coffee long enough to scowl at Lindsay.

Add to the hallucinations of last night, the 'mysterious' anti-Stockwell campaign had struck again. Dozens of neighbourhoods had been targeted. Each house had received a personalized letter, detailing their family history, with names and dates of immigrants in their ancestry.

Lindsay had received a personalized letter detailing how she would not even be in existence had Stockwell been mayor when her great great grandfather had arrived in Pittsburgh because of one or another proposed policy of his.

Each house had received a different letter, a different story, a different outcome. The common thread running through the stories was everyone's lives and families would be considerably worse off had a mayor like Stockwell existed sometime in the history of their families.

Cynthia had called early in the morning to tell Brian that she found out that her great grandfather had been a petty criminal, and she pointedly remarked that he would have probably died behind bars had Stockwell been police chief at that time.

Some people were sharing their personal stories on breakfast shows on TV and radio; others were saying that it was too personal to be discussed. Others were saying their neighbourhoods had not received anything, and they were waiting for their stories.

 _Everyone_ was talking about it.

"More coffee?"

Brian looked up at Justin, who clearly had not had a wink of sleep. There were dark circles under his sunken eyes, and he looked exhausted. Also, happy. The damned infernal blonde was beaming.

"I think you should have some yourself; doesn't look like you've had much sleep. Or rather, _any_ sleep."

"That's because Vic was sick last night. Food poisoning. I don't know how I slept through it all, but I did. Sunshine here took care of Vic all night. I didn't know a damn thing until I walked into the kitchen this morning and found the two of them there." Debbie, materializing from nowhere, hugged Justin.

Justin smiled ever-so-sweetly at Brian, over Debbie's shoulder.

"I'm late for work."

"Wait, Brian, can't you drop Justin home? Sweetie, go home, get some rest, we can manage without you here for today, ok? You deserve it."

"Aw, Deb, thanks! Brian, I'll just go get Soli and meet you out front ok?"

Brian frowned at Debbie. "I _really_ will be late, Deb."

"Please…it's not like you have punch cards. So be a few minutes late."

 

* * *

 

"C'mon Justin, what gives?"

"Huh?"

"Who _are_ you, really? How are you pulling off shit like this? Leaflets from the sky, personalized letters to hundreds of people…we both know that you're getting help, and I don't mean Vic. There's no conceivable way, unless…"

"Unless what?" Justin looked at Brian soberly.

"Unless…I don't know. I can't come up with a single idea. You babble in Latin, you have this vast wealth of historical information inside you, but you have no idea who Snoopy is, you know…you _claim_ to know who murdered Jason Kemp, you have the unwavering support of Vic and Ted, two people who are usually a lot more cautious when it comes to strangers…who _are_ you?"

"I can't tell you."

"So you admit that there is something…" Brian didn't even know how to phrase the statement.

"Brian, I'm sorry. I just can't answer your questions. I…I just can't."

Brian stared straight ahead. He had reached his limit.

"Then, I suggest you don't drop by the loft until you can."

 

* * *

 

_**At the diner** _

 

It had been a week since his unplanned ultimatum to Justin. The two of them had barely spoken since then, except at the diner, if and when Brian ordered something from him.

Justin had obviously been working on the campaign, because those who hadn't received personalized letters the first time round got them a few days ago. What else the blonde had been doing, it was difficult to say. He had not been to Babylon or Woody's.

Several times, Brian had been tempted to swing by _Robbie's_ in the evening, to see if Justin was there, playing his hustler role. But Brian hadn't gone through with it. He was too angry with Justin to do that.

The more Brian thought about it, the more furious he became.

Justin clearly had a completely different life beneath the façade he was showing everyone. He would also blatantly lie about that to Brian.

To add insult to injury, Justin didn't reciprocate what Brian gave him. Brian had allowed Justin into his life. He had, in spite of his better judgement, heard what Justin was saying, allowed Justin to see how he feel; he had shown Justin that he cared about him.

And Justin?

Who the fuck knew about Justin.

How could Brian even begin to imagine that Justin cared? Cared how? By lying through his teeth? By not trusting Brian enough to come clean with him?

Justin could trust Vic, he could trust Ted, but he couldn't trust Brian enough to tell him the truth.

After all that it had taken Brian to open up to someone other than Mikey, this is how he was repaid. By being treated like some chew toy.

Just thinking about it made Brian so angry that he could easily have punched a wall through sheer frustration. Instead, however, he chose to walk into the diner, trying to purposefully look nonchalant.

There was no Justin to be seen.

"Hey."

Brian turned at the voice, and saw that Michael had walked in behind him.

" _Woody's_ after this?"

"Sure, why not?" Michael responded, and scooted in beside a sombre looking Emmett. "Where's Ted?"

"He's out back, with Justin," Emmett said.

Brian rolled his eyes.

"What's with you? I thought you and Boy Wonder had a _thing_. Now the two of you are barely talking to each other…does he want to move in with you?" Michael chuckled at his own joke, but frowned when Emmett just stared at him, and Brian glowered.

"I don't have, and _never_ had, a 'thing' with anyone, as you so put it. I fucked him. That's all."

" _Right."_ Michael raised his eyebrows, but Brian chose not to even acknowledge it.

"How is he?" Emmett was looking at Ted, who had materialized next to their table.

"How is who?" Michael asked.

"Justin."

"He's awful. I have no idea what to say or do…I think I'm going to call Vic."

Brian willed Michael to ask the obvious, which he did.

"What is going on? What's wrong with Justin? Is he sick?"

Emmett frowned. "You haven't heard?"

"Heard what? From whom?"

"Honeycutt, will you just explain to us what the fuck is going on?" Waiting for Michael to extract information was like waiting for Godot.

"Oh, it was _horrible!_ Absolutely AWFUL. Just…absolutely awful."

It was useless. Brian would just have to wait until Emmett went through his histrionics. "What was?"

Emmett continued. "I mean, poor, poor Sunshine. He was sitting right here, on his break, and we were chatting about this evening, and he was saying that he was going to go meet Mel after his shift was done…I can't really remember. And then Kiki came – I tell you, that woman has _no_ tact whatsoever. She just walked over here, looking like a ghost, and she blurts out 'Soli's dead' and then – "

"What?!" Michael practically screamed.

"Soli, you know, Justin's pet dog?"

"We KNOW who Soli is…" Brian ground.

"Well, Soli's dead. Some stupid prick on a motorbike ran her over this morning. Justin has been inconsolable ever since. He ran outside, and just fell to the ground and his whole body was shaking and he was just…oh, it was too horrible. None of us could get him to move at all. Finally, I called Teddy, and he came and spoke to Justin, and Kiki managed to move Soli to the back alley. And then Justin freaked out when he saw that Soli was missing and then Teddy took him to the back and…he's just been there ever since."

Brian felt a chill go down his body.

"Maybe we should get him a new puppy…maybe that'll help."

Michael shook his head. "Soli was his _friend_ , Em. Not a pet. You can't replace that. No one can."

"But then what can we do…"

Michael stood up. "I don't know. But I'm going to go talk to him."

 

* * *

 

Brian had not followed Michael into the alley initially. In the best of times, Brian was ill-equipped to deal with the miseries of others; when the person in question was Justin and the situation was Soli dying, he was certain that there was nothing he could say or do to make things better. Also, it was most unlikely that he was the person Justin wanted to see.

However, he wasn't allowed to sit inside and wait for too long, because Emmett started shrieking at him like a banshee for being there, and Brian found himself quickly following in Michael's footsteps.

When he got outside, he found Michael squatting on the ground, and Justin was hugging him, crying his heart out.

It wasn't quiet sobs of the sort Brian had seen when most adults cried, trained to maintain their composure even in the face of sadness. Justin was crying with abandon, with deep, heaving sobs, the way children did. His whole body was shaking, and it was clearly with great difficultly that Michael was maintaining balance so that both of them didn't fall over.

There was a small mound before the two men, covered in a table cloth from the diner. Brian rubbed his eyes. That must be Soli's body. The effect was overpowering. He felt sick. He felt utterly paralyzed, unable to go to Michael and Justin. Brian just stood there, rooted to the spot.

Eventually, Ted and Debbie came outside, and Debbie addressed Michael quietly.

"Michael, bring Sunshine inside. Crying out there all this time isn't good for him."

Michael refused with a slight shake of his head. He spoke softly, over Justin's still crying body. "Let him be. When he's too exhausted to cry, then I'll take him home. Just let him be for now."

So that's what they all did. Debbie eventually had to go inside, but Ted waited outside with Brian for what seemed like hours. Finally, Justin quietened. Still, Michael waited for what seemed like an eternity before helping Justin stand up. Both Ted and Brian walked over.

"C'mon Justin, let's just go home and sleep for a bit, okay?"

Justin stared blankly for a moment. "Soli. I have to…I'm not leaving her…"

"I'll bring her," Ted volunteered.

"No. I…she's…" It was clear that in another three seconds, Justin would breakdown again.

Brian was ashamed that he was completely unable to handle the situation appropriately, or figure out what had to be done.

Luckily for him, Ted was not in shock. Ted bent down quickly, and, wrapping the shrouded figure tighter, carried it gently.

"Here, we'll carry her home, okay? Brian, can you bring…no, we'll walk to your jeep and you can drive to Deb's. Okay? Brian?"

"Huh? Yeah…yeah…I'll get the jeep."

Michael held Justin, and Ted carried Soli's body, though he let Justin hold part of it, at least giving the illusion that Justin was carrying her weight.

Given an actual task to do, Brian was able to function considerably better. He quickly went to the jeep and brought it round the back before Ted, Michael and Justin had had to walk too far. They travelled in silence to Debbie's place.

 


	22. Chapter 22

"This was a lesson for me, wasn't it?" Justin didn't bother looking at Daphne. He stared at the ground. There was a cool breeze, and Justin stared at the road. He was sitting in Debbie's backyard, on the steps on the back porch. Daphne sat cross-legged next to him.

It was a week since Soli had died. Vic had spoken to the Humane Society, and had suggested that they cremate Soli. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now, the urn with ashes was just sitting in his room. Justin couldn't yet bring himself to spread the ashes anywhere; he knew by doing that, he wold be acknowledging the end of Soli.

"Oli, I'm sorry, really. If I had known, you know I would have told you."

"I know Daph. I know." Justin finally looked at her. "I think it's a message, Daph. From Loki. And Hel. That's why you didn't know; or even Cuidi or Gwen. Because all of you would have warned me, tried to help me somehow. I think Loki is trying to tell me that I shouldn't get attached to anything or anyone here, because this isn't my world. Because they're going to be calling me back. Soon. I think it's a lesson for me, that I can't control everything…that…that innocent people will always suffer, for some reason. That the innocent are taken, and I can't stop it, no matter how hard I try. That maybe Soli is happier to not be in a world where, with more than a billion people, she could only find one person to love her – and I'm not even a real human. It's a lesson, Daph."

"Oli…"

"I did love her, Daph. I still do. I miss her _so_ much. She was the best thing about this world. She was everything humans should be. Everything _we_ should be. She just loved…that's all she did. She spread joy and happiness and was…even without speaking, she was this wonderful, wonderful friend. But only I loved her back, Daph. Everyone else just tolerated her because of me. Maybe they're telling me that I shouldn't have spared Ted or Vic…or Jason. Jason for sure. By sparing him, I made him suffer so much more."

"You have me, Oli. Human or angel or whatever you are, we're always going to have each other."

"I love you, Daph. I don't say that often enough."

"I love you too. I miss you, you know? I do. It's not the same, doing this without you."

Justin smiled at Daphne. "I hated it. It's just…so wrong, Daph. Loki says that I shouldn't change fate, but why not? It's not like we're giving humans a choice anyway, right? Cuidi and…and the rest of his group and the Moires…they decide who has to die and when…someone else decides how, and we take them…I don't understand…fate is the decision of everyone else except humans."

"But it's based on what humans do, and don't do…like the actions of everyone around Jason Kemp…his parents, Rikert, Gino, Jason himself…all their actions determined the fate of Jason."

"But it's still not fair, Daph. Their actions determine it, but not one of them knows that, and they don't get a choice in that…except the general choice to do the right thing."

"I know it isn't fair. But that's how it's been for…forever. Oli, what are you going to do now? Are you going to ask Loki to let you come back? Or…are you just going to wait and see…?"

"I'm going to fight. I'm going to fight for Jason Kemp, because I have to right the wrong – the mistake I made. I'm going to get justice for him."

"What about the other stuff?"

"Soli was Soli, no matter what. In this horrible, horrible, awful world, she was still so wonderful and she just loved everybody. She didn't bite people and gnarl at them…maybe Loki wanted me to learn his lesson, but I think I learnt Soli's lesson instead. Soli says – said – showed - that we are who we are. And no matter how ugly the world is, or how bad, we need to be good and beautiful and do what is right. I'm going to _get_ Rikert. And when Loki brings me back, I'm going to continue to do what I think is right, until someone can show me that my choices are wrong. You know, trying to save Jason Kemp may have been the wrong choice, but Vic and Ted…they are such wonderful, beautiful, _genuine_ people, Daph. They bring so much goodness into this world. I can't believe that that sparing them was wrong. I refuse to believe that."

"I love you Oli, I really do. Always always."

Justin felt a tear roll down his cheek. "I love you t-"

"Shhh…someone's here. I'm going to go"

With that, Daphne vanished.

"Hey, Justin. How are you doing?"

It was Michael.

"Doing ok, I guess. Better, I'm doing better."

Michael sat down next to him. "Do you want to come to Woody's tonight? We're all going, even David."

"No, I have some stuff to do. Thanks."

"Have you decided what to do with the ashes?"

"Not yet."

There was a long pause before Michael spoke again. "Have you spoken to Brian lately?"

"No. Yes, he was at the diner…yesterday."

"I mean besides taking his orders. Have you spoken to him outside of the diner?"

"No…Should I have?"

"Justin, you guys used to…well, you know. I spoke to Brian before I came here…"

"Then he would have told you that he wants nothing to do with me." Justin laughed mirthlessly, for no particular reason.

"He told me that you're a liar who has more secrets than a mobster."

"I don't understand why you're being so nice to me Michael, if Brian told you all that and…you must believe him…" Justin really was confused as to Michael's motivations.

"Well, I think Brian is right that you have secrets and you're lying about who you are…but I also think that I misjudged you and that you're not a bad person…and that Uncle Vic knows who you are and still accepts you…so you can't be this evil person. And you helped Brian and me, when you didn't have; you gained nothing from it…you're not a bad kid. Why don't you just tell him the truth, whatever it is? If you can tell Uncle Vic, why not Brian? Believe me, Brian will be the last person to judge you."

"He won't believe me," Justin said quietly.

"Why not?"

"Because. Just…because…who I am… it isn't believable. To anyone."

"I think you're seriously exaggerating. C'mon. Try me."

"Michael…"

"Cross my heart and hope to die. I promise I won't tell anyone."

Justin debated all kinds of lies. Then he remembered Soli. And Loki and Hel. He didn't have much time. He would have to go back soon…what was the point of lying? Michael wouldn't tell anyone anyway; he'd just think Justin was crazy. Besides, Michael had been so kind to him in the last week…he owed it to him. Justin was going to be called back anytime now, and he didn't want to leave without giving Michael an explanation; they had just become friends, and he wanted to give Michael the respect that friendship demanded.

"I'm not like you guys, Michael. I'm different."

"Different is _ok_ , Justin. We accept all kinds of people. I mean, just look at us!"

"Not like that. I'm _really_ different. I'm not human."

"Uh…. _huh?"_

Justin was too much of a coward to look at Michael's face. "I'm…I'm not human. I'm really a spirit…or you might think of me as a kind of angel. I help people cross over to the other side when they die."

"Justin…what are you saying…?"

"There's a whole world out there Michael, that you can't see or experience, and that's where I'm from…the stories humans have told each other for centuries…I'm not saying that it's all true, but we…me and spirits like me…we're the basis for those stories...we help people who are going to die cross over to the other side…and I didn't do my job properly…Vic…I couldn't take him to the other side…and Ted and…that's why they were so accepting of me…because they knew…and…you think I'm nuts and crazy and you don't believe me and how can I possibly tell this to Brian?"

Michael was silent for several minutes before he spoke. "Doesn't matter what I think. What matters is what _you_ think. You have to be true to yourself and the people you love, Justin. Look at the mess I made with David and Brian and even poor Tracy. You should speak to Brian, and if he wants you to tell him the truth, and this is the truth, then you tell him that."

 

* * *

 

He knocked, and waited.

Justin knew his time was coming up soon. He could sense it. He had been feeling it ever since Soli had been taken.

He didn't want to have to leave leaving things with Brian the way they were. Of course Brian didn't care about Justin the way Justin cared about him, but…he wanted his last few days or weeks with Brian to be something more than orders for coffee and turkey sandwiches.

And, moreover, Michael was right. Brian asked him for the truth. He would get it. He deserved it.

Justin refused to allow himself to be nervous. If he let himself think about what Brian's reaction could be, he wouldn't be able to go through with this.

The door slid open.

"Who the…Justin."

"You told me not to come to your loft until I was ready to answer your questions. I'm ready to answer your questions. May I come in?"

Brian stepped to a side.

"Brian…I know I haven't been fair, preaching to you, always, about doing the right thing and being honest to yourself while I…while I've hidden things from you and…and everyone else. It's just…"

This was much, much tougher than Justin had anticipated. There was an openness about Michael that made telling him easy. Brian, on the other, was expressionless, rigid, and therefore, scary.

"Just what?"

"No one would believe me. _You_ wouldn't believe me. And, and I'm really not even supposed to tell anyone, even if they _would_ believe me. This is yet another rule I'm breaking."

"Are you…are you part of some group? A cult? The FBI? I'm not going to go tell anyone, whatever you tell me. I don't care what it is, I just want you to be honest with me."

"I…remember when Ted was in hospital? You were there, and you were speaking to him, you were angry with him for making you decided, for being in a coma, for taking pills from a stranger…and then you had sex with the male attendant there?"

"How the…?"

"I was there. I saw you. Your pain that day is the reason Ted is alive today. And I was there when Vic was dying too, years before that."

Brian now looked visibly rattled. "I don't get it…what…how…?"

"I'm not one of you…I…there's a whole different dimension to this world, where creatures you can't begin to imagine, exists. Non-human creatures. Spirits, angels…just… _different_ beings. I'm one of them…we…I help dead people cross-over to the other realm…some others decide when the time is up for a human…or how the end will come for someone…I never saw your father in the oncology department…my friend…a…a…spirit…he warned me."

"What…what the fuck are you saying?"

Justin was encouraged by the fact that Brian was not screaming at him, or laughing at him. "I'm saying that I'm not human. I'm a spirit. What humans…what you might call an angel. I've been watching your world for centuries…that's how I know so much history and about Benedict Arnold and Spinoza and…and Latin. The leaflets you kept asking me about…those were my friends…other…other beings like me. My role…my duty…my 'job', you could say, was to help humans cross over to the other side when their time was done…I wasn't very good at it…I felt too sorry for people…I couldn't take Vic…or Ted…and Jason…Jason Kemp…they recognize me, you know? Vic and Ted, I mean…and…anyway…I kept not following my orders and then I got sent to earth in human form as punishment…"

Brian's expression was unreadable. "Punishment?" It was a question, leveled at Justin in an even tone. It was impossible to decipher what was going on inside Brian's mind.

"Yes, yes, punishment…I kept not taking humans, and I was sent here as punishment, to learn what humans are really like and why I should not interfere with what has been planned…Brian, they're going to take me back soon…I'm not going to be here for much longer, and…and I want you to know that…that being with you, having met you…you…you've been…"

"Get the fuck out."

Justin stared at Brian. "What?"

"Get. The. Fuck. Out. Right now. Get out of here before I throw you out."

"Brian, you don't…this is the truth…I know it's difficult to…"

"I said get out!" Brian finally moved, yanking Justin by the collar and physically dragging him towards the door and throwing it open. "I told you to tell me the truth and…this…you…this fucking bullshit! Angels! Where are your goddamn wings?! Or halo?! You fucking…"

"Brian, I love…." Justin felt himself being thrown outside, and had to stretch his arm out to keep himself from being slammed against the wall.

The door banged shut.

"…you."

 


	23. Chapter 23

_**At the diner** _

 

Through an effective mix of drugs and alcohol, Brian had done his very best to not spend more than 30 seconds thinking about Justin or what he had said or…or anything.

However, after almost 48 hours, even the powers of Beam and Special K started to fade. Especially when he had happened to see Justin earlier in the evening, dressed in his hustler outfit, headed off to Robbie's. In fact, that sighting of Justin had spurred on an inspired episode of alcohol consumption at Babylon, brought to an end by the annoying interference of Michael.

A fucking  _angel_.

How could that even be possible? Why would Justin come up with such an absurd story? Of everything he could have told Brian…of all possible reasons…

And yet, there will the inexplicable events, the information Justin had…it would make perfect sense if what Justin had said was true…except it couldn't  _possibly_ be true!

"Here. Drink this."

Brian glared at the cup that had been placed in front of him. "What the fuck is this? I don't want it." He managed to raise his glare from the cup to Michael's face. "What are you doing here? I thought I managed to shake you off my back."

Michael slid into the booth in front of him. "It's two in the morning, Brian. You left Babylon looking like the hot mess that you are, where did you  _think_  I was going to turn up?"

"Mikey Mikey Mikey, taking after your mother to a T. Can you leave me alone? I don't need a fucking babysitter. I came here for a glass of water before driving home."

"Brian, you shouldn't be driving  _anywhere_  in the state that you're in. I'll drive you back to the loft, but you should really drink the coffee before that."

Michael was the devil. There was no escaping that fact, Brian thought.

"Have you spoken to Justin?"

"Michael, GO AWAY."

"So I take it you  _haven't_ spoken to Justin?"

Brian sighed. It looked like he was stuck with Michael, and stuck with this topic. "Is there any reason I  _should_ have spoken to him?"

Michael slightly frowned. "Didn't he…didn't he speak to you? Tell you…tell you something?"

So it seemed that Michael and Justin were in cahoots. "Did poor widdle Sunshine come to Mikey to practice his story before he met the big bad wolf?"

Michael sighed. "So I'm going to assume that Justin spoke to you, and you didn't believe him."

"What the FUCK, Michael!? Did you hear him? Did you actually  _hear_ him? A fucking angel? A  _spirit_? Believe him?  _BELIEVE_  him? How stupid do you think I am?"

"Brian, stop screaming at me. Look, I didn't believe him either, when he told me. But, why would he lie? Why would anyone pick a story like that to be his cover? Justin isn't a stupid person. So if that's the story he's saying, that means he believes it. You know what that means? I thought that meant that Justin was sick. He's bipolar or delusional or has some kind of psychosis…we shouldn't be calling him a liar and pushing him away. We should be accepting him and making him feel safe and then getting him some proper help. What the fuck is wrong with  _you_? Can't you think beyond yourself for one second and imagine where the other person might be coming from?"

Brian froze. He had not even entertained the possibility that Justin might be seriously ill. "So you think Justin is sick? You think that's what all this is about?"

Michael shook his head. "That kid needed your support, Brian. His best friend just died. He needed you to be a friend, not to shut him out and call him a liar and heaven knows what else. Can you step outside of your self-absorption and what everything means with you as the centre of the universe and think for a minute about…about other possibilities?"

Brian hated being told he was wrong, no matter how right Michael might be. "Cut the psychobabble, Mikey. So you think Justin is sick? That he needs to see a shrink?"

"Well…that's what I  _thought_. And, unlike _you_ , I figured that I should test his story and see what kind of help we can get him. So I spoke to Uncle Vic."

"And?"

"And Uncle Vic says that Justin is telling the truth, that he isn't sick, and that Uncle Vic remembers Justin and that he's alive today because of Justin."

Brian stared at Michael incredulously. "And now you believe Justin?"

"Brian, what else can it be? Why would Uncle Vic play along? Why would  _he_  believe it? Folie à deux?

"Folie à  _what_? What the fuck is that doctor teaching you now?"

"It's not David…I saw it in an episode of the  _X-Files._ It's this madness that's shared by two people…like, Justin is mad and believes himself to be an angel, and then that madness passes on to Uncle Vic and he also believes that Justin is an angel. Anyway, I'm saying that both of them  _can't_ be mad. Like, c'mon. So, it has to be true. And it would explain the leaflets, and why Uncle Vic took him in…oh yeah, and Uncle Vic said that Justin saved Ted too. They can't all be crazy, Brian. Think about it."

"I AM thinking about it! Justin not being human is crazy."

"Why?"

"Michael. A fucking ANGEL? Like a supernatural fucking being? Really?" The scariest part was that Michael was making way too much sense. That would make Justin…a non-human. A real angel that was here and would be gone.

"How else do you explain things? How else  _can_ you explain things? This is like the craziest explanation, but it's the only one that also makes sense. Like, everything fits, if we believe it. Brian, there's no other way that any of this –"

Michael broke off his sentence, and stared as Melanie rushed into the diner, and ran to counter, yelling for Deb.

"Hey, Mel, what are you doing here?"

Melanie didn't seem to hear Michael, but Debbie did materialize at the counter. Michael and Brian made their way to the counter.

"Melanie! What are you doing here? What's wrong?"

"Wrong? Nothing! Debbie, we got him! We're going to nail the fucker!"

"Mel, honey, what are you talking about?" Debbie looked as confused as Michael. Brian felt a knot in his stomach starting to grow. He had some inkling of where this was going.

"Jason Kemp's killer. Justin found him! We're going to nail him!"

"WHAT?" Debbie's shout was deafening.

"Jason Kemp…the dead hustler…he was killed by this in-the-closet cop called Rikert. Stockwell's former partner…I don't know how, Justin found out all this, and he hooked up with Rikert tonight, and got cold hard proof which ties Rikert to Jason Kemp the night he was killed! Less than an hour before he died, Rikert was fucking Jason Kemp. We got him!"

"Oh my god! Oh my god! Honey, that's…oh my god, that's incredible! But...Justin? What does Sunshine have to do with this?" Debbie's elation quickly turned to suspicion, as she placed her hands on her hips.

Michael stared at Brian, before turning to Melanie. "Yeah, I don't get it. Justin? Stockwell? Come again?"

Melanie took a deep breath. "Justin and Jason Kemp were friends...I think...anyway, Justin knew that this former cop – Rikert – had killed Jason."

"If Sunshine knew that, why wouldn't he have told me?" Debbie did not look pleased.

"Deb, I dunno. Anyway, the cops kept saying that they needed hard evidence to tie Rikert to Jason, not just Justin's word...so Justin...he slept with Rikert to get his DNA...from a used condom" Melanie was looking extremely uncomfortable now.

"He did WHAT?" Michael hollered.

"Oh my god...poor sweet Sunshine...he could have been killed...just like Jason." Debbie had tears in her eyes, and looked nauseated. "My poor baby...what has he done to himself? Is he ok? And...he doesn't remember anything...how did he know Jason?"

"You let Justin sleep with a fucking murder?" Brian was ready to strangle Melanie.

"Hey, back off!" Melanie glared at Brian. "I didn't know he was going to sleep with Rikert! He never said anything about what he was planning...how the fuck was I to know?"

"Justin's just a kid. Why would he...?"

"Deb, nothing on this planet could've changed his mind from going after Rikert. Jason was apparently his friend...I don't think Justin has amnesia...I think he's leaving behind something almost as bad as where Jason came from..." Melanie said.

Brian frowned, but said nothing. Melanie was obviously voicing what she had assumed was Justin's real story. He wanted to kick himself.  _He_ had known just as well as Melanie how badly Justin wanted to get Rikert. He had also known the lengths to which Justin would go for that purpose.  _He_ should have stopped Justin.

"I'm glad you...the cops...have their proof now, but this is really awful for Justin," Michael stated. "Is he ok?"

"Yeah, he's ok. A bit shaken, but ok."

Brian put both his hands on Melanie's shoulders and forcibly turned her around to face him. "How do you know?"

"Know what? Justin met me a few hours ago; he gave me the goods. I took it to Kevin – my guy at the station – and they ran the tests immediately. It's a match. They're on the way to arrest Rikert right now."

"Where's Justin?"

"I…I'm not sure…he came to the station with me, and after the results came in and he had given his statement, he said he wanted to be alone and left…he just wanted me to make sure that I told Deb."

Suddenly, there was a loud bang at the door. When they looked, the 'open' sign had somehow fallen to the floor, and the wind had blown the door wide open.

"What the…" Michael stared from the scene at the door to Brian.

Brian couldn't explain why, but he was having a very, very bad feeling about all of this. Something wasn't right, though he couldn't figure out what.

"So…someone would have called Stockwell by now and told him that his former partner was getting arrested for murder?"

Melanie shrugged. "I guess so, yeah. Plus, they solved a cold case and he's still the police chief…so, yeah, I think someone must've called Stockwell by now."

The door slammed itself shut and opened up again, all on its own, making a terrific racket in the process.

"What is going on…?" Debbie made her way to the door.

"I think that's a sign," Michael whispered to him, pointing at the door. "Like the leaflets and stuff…I think it's some kind of sign."

Brian didn't have time to figure out what was going on with a stupid fucking door. He checked his cellphone – no missed calls from Stockwell. No messages. Nothing. So if Stockwell wasn't calling him to start damage control…Stockwell was calling Rikert to warn him. And the only way to save Rikert would be…

"Brian, I think someone's trying to tell us something," Michael hissed at him.

"Where's Justin?" Brian shook Melanie. "WHERE is Justin? When did you leave him?"

"Brian…what the…I told you, I don't know! He left the station and wanted to be alone for a while…I dunno…about twenty minutes ago..why?"

Brian turned around, grabbing his jacket on his way out. If  _he_  was Rikert – or Stockwell – the only thing he'd do right now was get rid of Justin. That would be his only way out of this.

"Wait! Brian, I'm coming with you! I'll drive!" Michael ran after him.

 

* * *

 

Michael insisted on driving, and somehow, Melanie had also managed to join them.

Melanie's presence had actually turned into a good thing, because she had given them the fastest route to the station. Now, he and Michael waited inside the jeep as Melanie went inside to see if Justin had returned to the station. En route, they called Vic, Ted, Babylon, Woody's and even Robbie's to see if Justin had turned up. No one had seen Justin.

Melanie came back, grim-faced. "Kevin said that Stockwell was just here. He's gone now."

Brian got out of the jeep.

"Justin walks around aimlessly all the time. How on earth will we find him?" Michael asked.

"No." Brian said. "He walks around the darkest, loneliest alleys there are, where he can…"

_Where he was always speaking Latin…_

Silently, Michael and Melanie followed Brian.

"I hope you're wrong, Brian. I hope we're all just overreacting," Melanie said.

Brian didn't answer. He hoped so too.

"What's that glow?" Michael asked.

"What glow?"

Michael pointed a small glow about twenty feet ahead of them.

"The reflection of a light somewhere?" Melanie guessed.

"It's moving," Michael stated. "It's a sign."

"Mikey, you and your fucking signs. This isn't the time –"

Michael cut him off. "It  _is_ a sign. And it's moving. It's just like Uncle Vic said. That's what'll lead us to Justin. You go wherever you want to; I'm following that."

Melanie stared at Brian questioningly, as Michael ran off after the glow. Brian did not know what to believe. So far this evening, Michael had made the most sense out of all of this. There seemed to be only one thing to do, especially as he had no better ideas on how to find Justin.

"We follow Michael I guess."

Which they did for about five minutes, before the glow completely disappeared.

"What now?" Melanie asked Michael.

"I don't know…"

"Now, we continue looking for Justin," Brian said. The blonde had to be here  _somewhere._ It hadn't been that long; Justin couldn't have wandered off too far. Brian walked ahead purposefully. Justin  _had_ to be here.

After a few minutes of walking, Brian saw a figure ahead of him, and he broke into jog to catch up.  _Justin?_

He could now hear voices. A man was talking.

Justin, Stockwell and presumably Rikert. Justin had his back against the wall.

He could feel Michael and Melanie right behind him.

There was something in Rikert's hand. Something long.

Brian saw Justin shaking his head, just as his mind figured out that Rikert was holding a baseball bat.

Rikert raised the bat.

"Justin!  **JUSTIN!** "

Brian didn't realize that he was actually screaming.

He saw Stockwell turn around at the sound of his voice.

And then he heard the bat make contact.

" _ **JUSTIN!"**_


	24. Chapter 24

_There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love._

_\- Washington Irving_

 

* * *

 

__

Brian was seated right outside the operating theatre. His eyes were red and puffy; his cheeks were wet from the tears that were frequently making their way down his face, with Brian making no effort to wipe them away.

Michael was seated beside him. It was hard to tell if Michael had cried or not. Right now, the man looked profoundly distressed. He was rubbing Brian's back with one hand, while the other was clenched upon his leg.

Some distance away, were two men Daphne recognized as Ted and Vic. They obviously knew what was going to happen. Their expressions were of sadness and acceptance that comes with knowledge.

Then there was Debbie, seated at the next bench over. She had been loudly sobbing not too long ago, but had now stopped. Her face was still buried in her hands, though. All the men had been lost in their own world, and no one paid her any attention, though Vic had sat with her during the loudest part.

"You shouldn't have led them to him…" Gwenhwyfar mumbled. 

"They deserved to know. Oli would have wanted them to know," Daphne responded.

"Yes but…this way, it will be so much more difficult for all of them. Aeolus didn't always think things through but you Daphne -"

"It's what Oli would have wanted," Daphne stated with finality.

Gwenhwyfar didn't reply.

Daphne looked upon Brian and Michael once more, wondering what else she could have done, or what else she _could_ do in this situation to ease everyone's pain. Oli would have done something for sure, she thought.

"She's back," Gwenhwyfar announced.

Daphne watched the dark haired woman – Melanie – walk towards Brian. She was accompanied by the blonde woman whom Oli had identified as Lindsay.

"How's he doing?" Melanie asked.

Ted had moved towards her, and Vic was helping Debbie up.

Michael shrugged in response.

"We haven't heard anything yet," Ted supplied. "What's going on at the station?"

"Stockwell is apparently saying that he didn't know that Rikert was going to…that…he says that he thought that Rikert bought the bat to just intimidate Justin. True or not, I don't thinking he'll be able to make that story stick. It's a media frenzy out there. They – the police – they may want to ask you both some more questions later." The last sentence was obviously directed towards Brian and Michael.

"Uh huh," Michael said.

Vic started to gently move the group towards where Debbie had originally been seated, but both Ted and Lindsay remained near Brian.

"Brian…I'm so sorry…if there is any justice in this world, Justin is going to pull through." Lindsay reached out to squeeze his shoulder, but didn't intrude into his space any further.

"There isn't," Brian said dully.

"Brian…"

Lindsay was clearly unsure of what to say next, and she looked at Ted for help. He simply motioned her to move away.

Ted cleared his throat. "He had to go back eventually…Justin wasn't meant to be with us forever. He went on his own terms; he got Rikert _and_ Stockwell. And knowing that you're here, that you care so much for him…I think Justin would be happy, Brian."

"No."

"Brian…"

"Justin wouldn't be happy," Brian stated. "Justin was _never_ happy accepting the status quo. He fought and argued and did everything he could to turn the world into what he thought it should be. Justin would _never_ accept death happily."

Brian was right, Daphne thought. Oli would be anything _but_ happy at being called back.

Ted and Michael remained silent.

Brian spoke again, quieter this time. "Do you think there's a god? If Justin is…was…is an angel, do you think there's a god out there? Some being to speak to, on behalf of him."

"Brian…" That was all Michael could manage before he started crying himself.

 

* * *

 

 

"Loki, you didn't have to come yourself to take me...it isn't something you normally do. I'm surprised," Justin commented.

"This is not something I _ever_ do. However, it has become increasingly difficult to trust you, Aeolus. I was thus compelled to do this myself."

"You could have sent Gwenhwyfar."

"Hel and I considered that option. We decided that you needed a stronger hand. The strongest, as a matter of fact."

Justin rolled his eyes. "What did you think I would do? Refuse to go with whomever you sent?"

"You broke more rules as a human than you did as one of us," Loki commented, instead of answering his question.

"I did what had to be done."

Justin looked at operating theatre, where doctors were still working to resuscitate his human form. "Are you going to give me the chance to say good bye?"

"Aeolus, I _am_ aware that you revealed your true nature to more than one human being. I believe your human friends have received ample warning. Good byes are entirely unnecessary."

Loki started walking towards the light, but paused when he realised that he was not being followed. "Aeolus?"

"Maybe _I_ need to be able to say good bye."

"Aeolus. You are not human, you never were. For what conceivable reason do you want to further elongate this punishment? You are wasting my time with this conversation. Kindly follow me right now."

"I'm not one of you. Deep inside, I'm not. I can't think like you. I feel too much for them. And I'm not human. Perhaps I don't belong amongst human. But I don't belong with you either."

"Are you refusing to come with me? You understand, Aeolus, that the choice is not yours to make? We have already decided what has to happen to that...to your human form."

"I understand that, Loki. If you make me follow you, I will. But I will always be me. I'm going to continue to spare the humans that I cannot bear to see die. I'm…I'm never going to change who I am, no matter how many times you punish me."

Loki sighed. "In the entire time you were a human, did you not learn anything? The only salvation you received was from a canine. A non-human. Did you not spend the vast majority of your time being unhappy and sad and angry?"

"And you had to take Soli away, didn't you? To make me learn? Maybe I was mostly miserable. But when I was happy, it was an amazing feeling. And I know how to appreciate that happiness because I knew what it was like to be unhappy. And even in my misery, there was a spark of light, knowing that I was doing something useful, something that was going to make the world better for at least one human."

"Death is inevitable. As a human Aeolus, you will eventually die. Everyone you know will eventually die. Some sooner than others. That is the fate of humans. If you are unable to continue to do your duty without willfully doing what you are not supposed to, I will speak to Hel and find other duties for you. Other duties where you will not have the power to do as you wish. I suggest that you be very, very careful of what you next say to me. It would do you well to remember that we all work towards a greater purpose, and no one has the luxury to do as they wish, when they wish. There are rules that _must_ be followed."

"You and Hel have the luxury of doing what you deem is best. Why can't I have that freedom?" Justin countered.

Loki sighed once more, and it was obvious that he was becoming increasingly annoyed. "Those who are able to prove that they are able to follow rules and stick to the plan that fate has created are rewarded with greater power. Unfortunately, you have proven quite the opposite. Now, I suggest you follow me to the other side now, without prolonging this any further."

Justin laughed quietly. "Loki, with respect, do you really believe that? I will always, _always_ find a way to do what I think is right. And fair. I was a human, and I still managed to get Daphne, Gwenhwyfar, Molly and even Cuidi help me. I will _always_ find a way, no matter what you make me do."

"Loki?"

"Daph!" Justin exclaimed, completely taken aback at her appearance before them. "What are you doing here?"

"I have a message for Loki."

"Did you put Daphne up to this, Aeolus?" Loki seemed exasperated. "Daphne, you are not supposed to be here. I made it clear to everybody that I was going to bring Aeolus back, _on my own_. Further, your role is not that of a messenger. There is an appropriate channel – "

"He doesn't know the appropriate channel," Daphne interrupted. "There's a human…Brian…he…wants to intercede on behalf of Oli, to ask that he allowed to remain as a human."

"Daph…" Justin could only stare at her.

Daphne looked fixedly at Loki. "He doesn't _know_ how to ask you, or, actually, he doesn't know how to _reach_ you, to ask you. I can't…I've come to you on behalf of him. I ask that you and Hel consider this request."

 


	25. Epilogue

_[In Debbie's backyard]_

 

"Are you sure they won't fire you?"

Brian scoffed. "Are you kidding? I'm a hero."

"But now everyone knows you're gay, right? I mean, aside from Cynthia and the clients you fuck in the mens room?"

"I'm Pittsburgh's hero. No one is going to fire me for being gay."

"Shit! Fuck!"

"Enough yapping," Brian told Michael. He turned to Justin. "It's okay, just focus on what you're doing."

Justin sighed, watching the ball roll away.

Michael picked it up and handed it back to him. "C'mon, you can do it."

"No, I can't," Justin said dejectedly.

"Yes, you can. Come on. Toss it to me," Brian said

Justin held the ball in his right hand and tried tossing it once more.

"Hey, that one was good, Justin," Michael cheered encouragingly.

Justin smiled. "Michael, that one was _barely_ okay, and you know it. You're such a liar."

"Hey, I'm letting you stay in my room. You better be nice to me."

Justin laughed.

Brian shook his head, but his eyes were smiling. "I thought we were tossing the ball here and doing physio. If you two are going to play the fool, I think I'll just head over to _Woody's_."

Michael and Justin exchanged a look.

"I'll go grab our jackets," Michael said.

"I think there's plenty of room at Woody's to toss a ball…or two…around." Justin smiled impishly at Brian.

 

 

**THE END**

 

 

 _Hey Mom, why didn't you tell me?_  
Why didn't you teach me a thing or two?  
You just let me go out into the world  
You never thought to share what you knew  
  
So I walked under a bus, I got hit by a train  
Keep falling in love which is kinda the same  
I've sunk out at sea, crashed my car, gone insane  
And it felt so good I want to do it again  
  
Hey Mom, why didn't you warn me?  
'Cause about boys is something I should have known  
They're like chocolate cake, like cigarettes  
I know they're bad for me but I just can't leave 'em alone  
  
So I walked under a bus, I got hit by a train  
Keep falling in love which is kinda the same  
I've sunk out at sea, crashed my car, gone insane  
And it felt so good I want to do it again  
  
I walked under a bus, I got hit by a train  
And it felt so good I want to do it again  
I wanna do it again, I wanna do it again  
Oh, it felt so good  
  
Hey Mom, since we're talking  
What was it like when you were young?  
Has the world changed or is it still the same?  
A man can kill and still be the sweetest thing  
  
I walked under a bus, I got hit by a train  
Keep falling in love which is kinda the same  
I've sunk out at sea, crashed my car, gone insane  
And I felt so good I want to do it again  
  
Under a bus, I got hit by a train  
Keep falling in love which is kinda the same  
I've sunk out at sea, crashed my car, gone insane  
And it felt so good I want to do it again

  
Under a bus, hit by a train  
And it felt so good I want to do it again

 

  - _Buses & Trains by Bachelor Girl_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel compelled to write an end note, because of *some* of the reviews I have gotten for the ending of the story; mercifully, not all the reviews :) .
> 
> I completely understand if this ending was/is not to the satisfaction of all readers. Tastes differ. 
> 
> But I do want to say that this was always the ending that I envisioned for the story, and years later, after said reviews, posting it on a different site, I have no inclination to change/add/revise the ending. 
> 
> The story was always primarily about friendship, and that is what the ending reflects. Is it ambiguous? Yes, but that's also the intention. I like readers to come to their own conclusions about the small (or medium) stuff; a lot of my stories are like that. 
> 
> No, I did not get bored with my own story, as has been suggested. No, I did not lose the thread of my own plot, again, as has been suggested. I don't think there are very many authors in any fandom who write like that. 
> 
> This is exactly how I saw 'Buses & Trains' when the idea came to me, and the ending is true to my original vision for the story. 
> 
> Having said all that, I thank everyone for reading, for reviewing, and for the positive and constructive feedback I have received. You guys are great!
> 
> *****************
> 
> Also, because some people have asked where the 'weird' names came from:
> 
> Gwenhwyfar = This is the original Welsh name, from which we get the modern day 'Jennifer'. Gwenhwyfar, in this story, was the other-worldly form of Jennifer.
> 
> gwen, gwyn means 'white, shining, holy' and hwyfar means 'phantom, spirit, fairy'. Gwenhwyfar is the ancient Welsh goddess of dawn and spring.
> 
> Daphne = from the Greek myth of Daphne, and, well, I guess her name didn't change at all, so it wasn't confusing.
> 
> Ó'Cuidighthigh (Cuidi)= Irish Gaelic form of 'Cody' (the origins of the name). Cuidi was the other-worldly form of Cody.
> 
> Molley = This was an alternate, older spelling of Molly, meaning "star of the sea". Like Daphne, I guess it wasn't too confusing to figure out who she was.
> 
> Aeolus = Justin's other-worldly form, and the name has nothing at all in common with 'Justin'. Aeolus comes from Greek mythology, like Daphne, and there are several of them in mythology. I had the keeper/ruler of the winds in mind for him.


End file.
